Unbroken: Those Left Behind
by MasamuneZERO
Summary: Neither Booker nor Elizabeth's journeys through Rapture had gone without notice. Their presence touched the fate and lives of many denizens of Rapture, and now that they're gone, how will those left behind react to the DeWitts' involvement in their city? Suggest reading Bioshock Infinite: Unbroken first. Will have an influence on certain other works of mine.
1. The Tyrant

**Hi there, welcome to my new side story for Unbroken, though this one is going to be a little different from the others. Each chapter will focus on an individual who was touched in some way by Elizabeth's journey through Rapture and Booker's quest, both before and after events are altered by Booker's and Lutece's interference. The first segment is before Booker rescues Elizabeth, while the third is after she's saved from Atlas, and the second is merely an interlude as reality is rewritten.**

* * *

Hephaestus, January 1959

The scribbling sound of a pen flying across paper fills the spacious office as Andrew Ryan signs form after form, the amount of paperwork generated by the chaos in his city truly staggering. It's been two weeks since the bombing at the Kashmir Club, and since then the founder of Rapture's been holed up in his office, directing the war effort.

But in the midst of the chaos, a certain young woman had resurfaced since he'd last seen her in the once-sunken prison of Fontaine's Department Store. The young Miss Elizabeth Comstock had been shoved out of a bathysphere by Atlas and his men, and had entered the laboratory of Dr. Yi Suchong. Unfortunately, there is little in the way of cameras or other surveillance equipment in the good doctor's laboratory. Only a pair of speakers, camera and display at the entrance of the 'Free Clinic', the very idea of 'free' leaving a bad taste in the tycoon's mouth.

The monitor near his desk still shows the hole in the wall left behind by the lumbering, foul-smelling behemoth and the pair of moppets following in its wake. Ms. Comstock had disappeared into the hole just after the sound of a drill had ended the life of Yi Suchong, and Ryan shakes his head; somehow, the mysterious young woman had succeeded where the good doctor had not, the bond between the Big Daddy and Little Sisters plain to see when the lumbering palooka had plowed through the wall with the girls following close behind. "I suppose I should thank the young lady."

Now, it's been some time since Ms. Comstock had disappeared into that very same hole, and Ryan can't help but feel some odd sense of disappointment. The young woman could have been something incredible, had she just listened to reason. Even the manner in which Ms. Comstock had appeared in his city is still a mystery to him, and little of import goes on in Rapture without Andrew Ryan noticing. "Such a unique, exceptional young woman could have gone far, if only she had the good sense to see the proper course. If only she'd accepted my help, she wouldn't have found herself in such a position."

Andrew Ryan glances at the monitor yet again, wondering if he shouldn't have tried to stop her once again. Watching her stagger from the doctor's office where the Big Daddy had left Suchong's corpse, obviously drugged and not in full control of her faculties, only to disappear into the hole in the wall. Never to be seen again. "Why young Ms. Comstock was so determined to rescue this 'Sally' of hers, I'll never know. One Little Sister…" Ryan shakes his head, turning his attention back to the forms requiring his perusal.

By now, Ms. Comstock has surely become yet another victim of Atlas, the area beyond the hole far removed from his surveillance network and thus the territory of that thug and his bandits. Since New Year's Eve, the uprising of the Parasites has rocked Ryan's city and claimed the lives of so many honest, upstanding citizens. And now, Ryan's certain that the young woman can now be counted as yet another victim of the Parasites, and specifically of their leader, Atlas.

"Watching Ms. Comstock stagger to her doom was indeed much like watching Isaac Newton dying in a house fire to save his cat, but perhaps there was something more to be done." Placing his pen down beside the stack of papers, Ryan rises from his chair and steps up to the monitor, touching a finger to the microphone that he'd pushed to the far end of his desk after watching Ms. Comstock disappear. It would've been a simple thing to stop the young woman, if only for a moment. But she'd cast her lot in with Atlas, and Andrew Ryan is not one to suffer rubes. "Though I wonder if Ms. Comstock was truly a rube… foolhardy, perhaps, willful, definitely, but a rube? Maybe…"

Once more, Ryan wonders at where Ms. Elizabeth Comstock came from. How she'd appeared in his city after he'd cut Rapture off from the surface, how she'd even learned of his city and entered without his invitation. Most of the citizens of Rapture had come to live here by invitation and in secrecy, all in an effort to preserve his ideals and purpose of the city. But this young woman had arrived in his city completely without anyone's notice.

Rubbing his eyes, red and stinging from reading papers and forms all day long, Andrew Ryan turns back to his desk and the microphone, recalling the first time he laid eyes on Elizabeth Comstock. It had been just after he'd sent Sullivan and his security forces to arrest that crook, Fontaine.

"One of Cohen's performances, as I recall…" Thinking back, Ryan remembers being called upon by Sander Cohen to come and observe his newest attraction, his 'Songbird' as he called her. While Fontaine had been taken care of, there had been much to do in the wake of his removal, and Ryan had little interest in attending with the work piling up. But even the founder of Rapture and the head of the Council had to humor his most vocal supporter, and so Andrew Ryan had made an appearance at Cohen's concert at Fleet Hall.

Much to his surprise, Cohen's Songbird was a truly talented singer. Her song seemed to move the gathering of Rapture's elites, and even he'd found Elizabeth Comstock's performance enjoyable. However, he hadn't paid the young performer much mind, despite her talent; all he saw was a shining example of Rapture's purpose, where the artist would not be censored and given the chance to practice their art without fear of being dragged down by the Parasites.

"Perhaps I should have recognized her as someone who'd come to Rapture uninvited…" Shaking his head, Ryan glances again at the monitor, wondering what may emerge from the break in the wall. The Big Daddy, sans the drill on its arm, is lumbering towards the hole with two Little Sisters padding behind it, and Ryan wonders what purpose the beast could have in there. Perhaps it intends to retrieve Sally?

"Nothing worth my notice, I'm sure." Stepping away from his desk and the monitor, Andrew Ryan retrieves his putter and steps up to the artificial putting green. Dropping a golf ball, Ryan taps the dimpled white ball as he recalls the worries back then. Between all the preparations to turn Fontaine's Department Store into a prison for all of Fontaine's associates, far more than the Persephone Penal Colony could have ever held, and the increasingly concerning search for the missing Brigid Tenenbaum, Ryan simply had too much on his mind to concern himself with one mysterious if talented young woman; Tenenbaum's disappearance and opposition to the Little Sister program would do nothing but fuel the rumors circulating about her and undermine the public's morale. "If only I knew how talented the young lady was then, I'm certain I could have persuaded Ms. Comstock to come work for me."

A heavy, slow and steady thumping noise comes from the monitor, the telltale sound of a Big Daddy's footsteps drawing Ryan's attention. Stepping back to the monitor with putter in hand, Ryan spies the Big Daddy from before work its way out of the hole, carrying the Little Sister Sally in its arm. The metal beast retrieving the Little Sister doesn't surprise Andrew Ryan in the least, but as he peers into the monitor as the group approaches the camera, he raises an eyebrow in surprise; Sally appears to be crying, the distorted voice of the Little Sister coming clear through the speakers as tears roll down her gray, mottled cheeks.

"Exceptional indeed…" Ryan mutters as he strokes his mustache, surprised at the girl; Little Sisters were meant to be bonded to their Big Daddy, and should only be able to care in any measure about their imprinted Protectors. But this Little Sister has no Big Daddy, at least nowhere nearby, yet she's crying all the same. "How could Ms. Comstock have inspired such emotion in this near-mindless moppet?" According to Suchong, the Little Sisters should be living in some sort of dream world, completely oblivious to the harsh reality around them. Yet, this Sally seems to comprehend far more than the rest of her Sisters. Maybe there was something different with this one, or perhaps the conditioning of the Little Sisters did not make them as unseeing as Suchong claimed.

Standing there, watching the monitor while leaning on his putter, Andrew Ryan looks on in amazement as the Big Daddy, Sally and the other two Little Sisters disappear into the laboratory. The more he thinks on it, the more he's convinced that he'd both been right, and that he may not have known just how incredible the young woman truly was. This incredible young woman who is now most certainly dead, for this Little Sister to react as such.

"Farewell, Ms. Comstock." Andrew Ryan nods at the screen as he returns to his desk, resting the putter against the wall, "What a waste, allowing yourself to meet your end in such an ignoble, futile manner." It truly is a shame that they couldn't come to an understanding, that if she'd just come to work for him, both she and Rapture would be thriving. Instead, the singer lies dead in the dark, and Rapture's gripped in violence and unrest at the hands of her killer.

Shaking his head, Andrew Ryan turns his thoughts back to his paperwork, retrieving his pen and once more signing form after form, document after document. Work was the answer to his problems, it always was, and work is what Rapture was founded on. But as he works, his mind seems to go blank, everything around him rapidly fading as white light erases it all.

* * *

Rosalind Lutece watches in silence through a Tear as Andrew Ryan bids farewell to Elizabeth. "This man had tried to have the girl killed, and now he's acting as if he's fondly saying goodbye to an old friend?" She snorts as she shakes her head, stepping away from the Tear and closing it without a second thought. The man had founded a city not so different from Columbia with his own personal philosophy as law, and his hubris and the disdain which he treats those around him seem in bad taste to Rosalind.

"An isolated, technologically advanced city far removed from the rest of the world, ruled by one man in the name of his personal creed." Thinking aloud, Rosalind steps over to the lighthouse door as she ponders the circumstances Elizabeth had found herself in, "While he at least seems more reasonable, Andrew Ryan appears to have much in common with a certain Prophet. No wonder the girl had spat at his offer." Rosalind's certain the girl had seen the parallels between Andrew Ryan and Zachary Comstock, and recalls something she'd said to the 'Booker DeWitt' she'd come for; just another set of fanatics with a different set of books.

The tycoon turned tyrant at least had no great ambition to destroy the world, and had started with seemingly good intentions. But the ideals he'd held had long ago been betrayed, and Rosalind can't help but wonder how exactly this Ryan fellow came to embody everything he'd despised.

"He'd called her exceptional and a rube. Andrew Ryan, you truly had no idea who you were talking to." A hint of amusement tickles Rosalind as she steps through the lighthouse door, appearing in the apartment of Booker DeWitt, many years and worlds removed from the events occurring in Rapture. The elderly Ms. Pearl naps in the chair behind the detective's desk with a lamp dying down, and Rosalind moves quietly towards the door to the other room. She'd promised her brother that she'd watch over the child while Robert led Mr. DeWitt through Rapture, and she'd do just that.

"If only Ryan knew just what the girl had experienced, just what she knew and had been capable of, I doubt he'd ever call her a rube. Exceptional, yes, a rube, unlikely. For all the power and knowledge held in Rapture, what the girl had once possessed puts it all to shame." Stopping at the door to Anna's room, Rosalind ponders how Andrew Ryan would react if he knew just what young Ms. 'Comstock' was, much as she'd wondered about the assembled elite at the opulent debut concert the girl had performed at. Perhaps events might have gone differently, but somehow, Rosalind can't see such a thing coming to pass.

Easing the bedroom door open, Rosalind slips quietly into the room where Anna rests. Looking upon the sleeping child, Rosalind heaves a sigh, "He holds his ideals as absolute truths even as he compromises them. Perhaps the greatest rube in Rapture is none other than Ryan himself."

* * *

The scribbling sound of a pen flying across paper falters for a moment, leaving the spacious office of Andrew Ryan silent aside from the nearly muted noise of machinery in the distance. Ryan rubs his stinging eyes, tired from filling out form after form, the amount of paperwork generated by the chaos in his city truly staggering. It's been two weeks since the bombing at the Kashmir Club, and since then the founder of Rapture's been holed up in his office, directing the war effort.

But in the midst of the chaos, a certain young woman had resurfaced since he'd last seen her in the once-sunken prison of Fontaine's Department Store. The young Miss Elizabeth Comstock had been shoved out of a bathysphere by Atlas and his men, and had entered the laboratory of Dr. Yi Suchong. Unfortunately, there is little in the way of cameras or other surveillance equipment in the good doctor's laboratory. Only a pair of speakers, camera and display at the entrance of the 'Free Clinic', the very idea of 'free' leaving a bad taste in the tycoon's mouth.

The monitor near his desk still shows the hole in the wall left behind by the lumbering, foul-smelling behemoth and the pair of moppets following in its wake. Ms. Comstock had disappeared into the hole just after the sound of a drill had ended the life of Yi Suchong, and Ryan shakes his head; somehow, the mysterious young woman had succeeded where the good doctor had not, the bond between the Big Daddy and Little Sisters plain to see when the lumbering palooka had plowed through the wall with the girls following close behind. "I suppose I should thank the young lady."

It's only been a short time since Ms. Comstock had disappeared into the hole, and Ryan can't help but feel some odd sense of disappointment. The young woman could have been something incredible, had she just listened to reason. Even the manner in which Ms. Comstock had appeared in his city is still a mystery to him, and little of import goes on in Rapture without Andrew Ryan noticing. "Such a unique, exceptional young woman could have gone far, if only she had the good sense to see the proper course…"

He'd watched her stagger from the doctor's office where the Big Daddy had left Suchong's corpse, obviously drugged and not in full control of her faculties, only to disappear into the hole in the wall. Never to be seen again. "Why young Ms. Comstock was so determined to rescue this 'Sally' of hers, I'll never know. One Little Sister… what's this?"

Surprise registers as a strange redheaded man steps through the hole, followed shortly by Ms. Comstock and another man, both he and the young woman leaning on each other for support. Where these two had come from, he has no idea, but a sense of déjà vu comes over Andrew Ryan. The man on Ms. Comstock's shoulder is quite obviously hurt, his body bandaged and bloody, but there's something about him that nags at the back of Ryan's mind.

"Where have I seen him before…?" Rubbing his chin as the odd looking redhead leads the struggling pair slowly towards the door leading out of Suchong's clinic, Ryan stares at the wounded man, who must have fought off Atlas and his bandits for Ms. Comstock to still be amongst the living. Then it comes to him, clear as day; his security forces had found the body of a man seen with Ms. Comstock, a private investigator within his city, a man by the name of Booker DeWitt. Though he looks much the same as the deceased detective, this Booker looks far younger than the dead man.

The man had last been seen entering Cohen's club in the company of Ms. Comstock, and had only later been found in the Toys Department of the sunken prison; he'd been run through by the drill of a Big Daddy, apparently left for dead by Ms. Comstock. So who could this mysterious man be? Andrew Ryan does not believe in ghosts, or in any superstitious nonsense, but there's little he can think of to explain the presence of this 'DeWitt'.

Reaching for the microphone he'd pushed aside, Ryan recalls the first time he'd laid eyes on Elizabeth Comstock. It had been just after he'd sent Sullivan and his security forces to arrest that crook, Fontaine.

"One of Cohen's performances, as I recall…" Thinking back, Ryan remembers being called upon by Sander Cohen to come and observe his newest attraction, his 'Songbird' as he called her. While Fontaine had been taken care of, there had been much to do in the wake of his removal, and Ryan had little interest in attending with the work piling up. But even the founder of Rapture and the head of the Council had to humor his most vocal supporter, and so Andrew Ryan had made an appearance at Cohen's concert at Fleet Hall. And it was much to his surprise that he'd found Cohen's Songbird to be a truly talented singer. The beauty of her voice had moved the entirety of her audience, and even he had to acknowledge her talent.

"Perhaps I should have recognized her as someone who'd come to Rapture uninvited…" Shaking his head, Ryan clears his throat as he watches the trio on the monitor, wondering once more who these men are and where they came from as he flicks on the microphone. On the other end, Ryan knows that all those three will see is the image that always displayed whenever he made an address in this manner, but his voice would be heard clearly. He vaguely notices Ms. Comstock embracing the Little Sister she'd been so determined to save, Sally running off after a moment.

"Well, well," Ryan grins as 'Booker DeWitt' and Ms. Comstock come to a stop, looking around in surprise, "I never imagined I'd find you still among the living. You truly are an extraordinary individual, aren't you, Ms. Comstock?"

"Andrew Ryan." 'DeWitt' growls his name, Ms. Comstock turning to look at him with a touch more surprise than before, "What business do you have with us? Going to send more 'sharks'?"

Ryan frowns, the impudence of this stranger irritating him, "I have no business at all with you, just with the young woman who's supporting you. Though I must admit, you are a mystery yourself, Mr. DeWitt." As he speaks, Ryan wonders how these two managed to arrive just in time to save the young woman. The identity of the upstart glaring back at him through the monitor is indeed a mystery, and Ryan can't help but wonder if this man is truly the same as the dead investigator, "Tell me, how well do you know the young woman? She's far more dangerous than she appears. There was a Booker DeWitt in my city, a much older man than you. Young Ms. Comstock there led him away, and my men found him dead in the prison I had sunk far below."

The pair stare back at him silently, and Ryan chuckles at their discomfort, "It's quite simple, Ms. Comstock." While the men are mysteries, they still pale in comparison to the young woman who'd so piqued his interest. "I still want you to work for me. You've quite the journey to escape my city, and I guarantee that Atlas will return to finish you, if you aren't protected. I don't know why you went so far to save your Sally just to let her go, but one Little Sister doesn't much concern me. You're an intelligent woman, Ms. Comstock, and when you come to work for me, I'll even guarantee the safety of your friend."

Once he finishes, he sits back as he waits for the intriguing young woman to respond. But when she finally does, Ms. Comstock grins as she answers, "My name, Mr. Ryan, is DeWitt, and we don't have quite the journey ahead of us that you imagine." As he makes to retort, 'DeWitt' raises his arm, a device of some sort strapped to it. The young woman reaches up and touches it, and the pair of them step through the door.

Surprised and disconcerted by the young woman's confidence, Ryan quickly switches to a security camera outside the clinic, looking for the 'DeWitt' and Ms. Comstock. "She said DeWitt... hmm? Where are they?" The view of the clinic's exterior is barren of life, no mysterious 'DeWitt', no Ms. Elizabeth. It's as if they'd disappeared from the bottom of the sea, almost as if they'd stepped through the door to another world. How did they manage such a complete vanishing act?

"DeWitt. Ms. Elizabeth DeWitt…" Interlacing his fingers before him, Ryan ponders just how this man, the DeWitt who'd been killed and this mysterious, almost otherworldly young woman are connected. Could this 'DeWitt' and the young woman be lovers, or maybe family? It would certainly explain why this man would come to her rescue, even at the risk of such harm.

Shaking his head, Andrew Ryan flicks off the monitor and microphone as he heaves a disappointed sigh; whatever the case was, the young woman is no longer in his city. She'd been a truly exceptional individual, of this he'd been correct, but perhaps he hadn't the faintest about just how amazing the young woman truly is. "Such a shame; she would have been a truly unique business partner. What, I wonder, could motivate a being such as she?"

Glancing at the blank monitor, Andrew Ryan heaves another sigh, the missed, potentially amazing opportunity weighing on his thoughts for a moment, "Farewell, Ms. Dewitt."

* * *

**Author's Note: First and foremost, I hadn't intended to start with Ryan at all, but after looking at the material I had, I figured Ryan's chapter would be a better fit for the first chapter. So I swapped Ryan and Cohen's chapter. ****Also, I'll be updating the list of characters with each chapter, so as not to give away too early what's to come. ****Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it. **


	2. The Maestro

**So this chapter's a little shorter than the one before, and in a way it's also a transitional chapter. Cohen's a little hard to get into his head, so I hope his insane ranting comes off alright. **

* * *

High Street, 1959

"Filthy, lowbrow lout!" Sander Cohen screams as he paces back and forth before his masterpiece in the Garden of the Muses, seething with rage and never taking his eyes off the toppled, now ruined plaster figure of his former disciple, "Brutish thug! Foul debaser! How dare you!?"

It had all been going so well. True, Rapture has seen better days, but an artist only thrives under adversity and hardships! While there is blood in the streets, the violence of Atlas' little 'revolution' left a great quantity of… 'material' to work with. So many days now lost, collecting the building blocks for his masterpiece. These poor souls had been destined for something far greater than they ever were when alive, but now… now it's all for naught!

"And now it's all ruined, all because of that… that… philistine!" Ripping his mask from his face, Sander Cohen throws the rabbit-eared mask at the topped centerpiece and sinks to the floor, "The beauty you once held… all gone!"

Sitting on the edge of the platform, Cohen lets his legs dangle over the side and his body go limp; so much had been put into this work of art, this monument to his genius. An edifice of plaster and flesh, showcasing the glory of life with the shadow of death!

"Booker DeWitt." Cohen snarls the name as he stares at the wire frame and plaster that once crowned his masterpiece, "How dare he defile your beauty, my little lost Songbird?"

Elizabeth Comstock, the fifth and by far most successful disciple of the maestro Sander Cohen. While she had only been his disciple for two months, Cohen's Songbird had reached heights far beyond his other disciples. She'd left his tutelage shortly after her masterful performance at Fleet Hall, but the memory of her singing before an audience filled with the best and brightest citizens of Rapture, and most of Andrew Ryan's inner circle, manages to curl Cohen's lips into a smile despite his rage.

"Perhaps even the old bear might've shed a tear that night." Planting his elbow on his knee and resting his chin on his hand, Sander Cohen's grin fades as he recalls his last meeting with Ms. Elizabeth Comstock. She'd employed the local private investigator, Booker DeWitt, and brought him to his club on New Year's Eve in search of a little girl. One he'd been all too familiar with.

My dear Songbird had always been peculiar." He thinks back to the painting he'd rendered unto the world, how he'd bargained the information for a dance on their part. How cold Ms. Comstock had seemed, nothing like the young woman who'd broken down in tears in his studio as the last of her beautiful notes passed from her lips. And the shocking end that the dance received.

"And then he appeared before me again, a far younger man." Cohen grits his teeth as he snarls and shakes with rage; he should have just burned the interloper alive, but no. He'd sensed something peculiar about the younger man, that he was more than he appeared to be. Not quite in the same was as Elizabeth, for he lacked her ethereal, otherworldly quality, but as if he had some great, driving purpose. Artists see more than most, and Cohen had decided then and there that this Booker DeWitt should join his 'Songbird' atop his masterpiece.

"Ms. Comstock met a most ignoble end long ago, in some forgotten corridor somewhere. This would have been my Songbird's claim to immortality! Yet, he destroyed it! He's worse than a doubter! He's… a Parasite! Yes! Ryan's hate of the Parasites is all the more clear to me now! They hate the artist, for they cannot create as an artist can!"

Cohen screams at the broken statue of Elizabeth, venting his anger and frustration with the lack of an audience, with the Doubters and the Parasites. His screams echo in the empty darkness of his Garden of the Muses, and his voice is hoarse when it finally dies down.

Left without his work, his fans or his peers, Cohen listlessly climbs to his feet as he stares forlornly at his fallen Songbird. She'd been so beautiful, kneeling there as if in prayer, as if the plaster figure knew it should be honored to be sculpted by his hand. Fallen, indeed.

"Steinman will be most disappointed…" Cohen clasps his hands before him as he mutters to himself. Dr. J.S. Steinman had been among the audience at Elizabeth's Fleet Hall performance, and had come to be fascinated with the talented young woman. The wireframe had come from the good doctor, Cohen fancying accuracy before he started molding the plaster Elizabeth's form.

"Perhaps it's for the best she left my tutelage. Old Steinman's quite mad now." After her Fleet Hall concert, Steinman had become a great admirer of Elizabeth's, though Cohen had always questioned his motives; he had long suspected now that Steinman's fascination was more than simple admiration. Perhaps he had lusted after her, or something worse, and the ease at which his associate had 'procured' his requested wire frame only confirmed his suspicions. But whether Steinman's lust for Elizabeth's body was for pleasure or to satisfy his 'urges', Cohen couldn't say, and he wasn't about to risk his greatest disciple.

"Disciples… hmm…" Thinking of his other disciples, an idea starts to form in the back of his deranged mind. "Perhaps I've let them have the run of my domain for long enough. Perhaps I shall return to Fort Frolic and prepare for my next masterpiece. A work without a central piece, each part different, yet linked…"

Starting down the stairs, Cohen starts to laugh as the ruined assortment of plaster and bodies is quickly forgotten, "Yes! I shall call it my Quadtych! The rest of my disciples shall be immortalized in my next masterpiece!"

But even as Cohen begins to obsess over his latest stroke of 'genius', a part of him notices something odd; Cohen's always held that artists saw more than those not touched by a muse, but by the time his conscious mind notices, it's too late. The walls, the floor, his masterpiece, and even he himself are fading away in a wave of white light.

* * *

"A peculiar enough fellow, this Cohen, even without his murderous tendencies." Robert Lutece closes the Tear as Sander Cohen steps away from his 'tarnished masterpiece'. He stands on the old wooden floorboards high above the dried out wharf, in the 'port' region of Rapture, where he waits for Booker DeWitt to regain consciousness. Some place called Neptune's Bounty, Robert idly notes as he looks around, the sign reading 'Wharfmaster's Office' nearby. Far below, he notices one of the monstrous Protectors stomping along down a pier of old, rotting wood with its Little Sister at its side.

"Strange looking beasts, these Big Daddies." Musing quietly to himself, Robert looks on as the Big Daddy keeps watch while the Little Sister extracts ADAM from a corpse. This one lacks the multitude of eyes or the oversized mining drill of the type Elizabeth has encountered, looking somewhat more like a human and carrying a large rivet gun. But the bright yellow light still shines from its visor, and the low, droning voice of the Songbird-like being marks it as anything but human. "Though the girls that accompany these Protectors are anything but normal, as well…"

"Elizabeth thought Cohen a horrible man even before he'd lost what little remained of his sanity. Such as it was, of course; the electrified plate he'd had her dance on was something a sane mind wouldn't have thought up." Still watching the Big Daddy and Little sister pair to pass the time, Robert looks on as Splicers attempt to overpower the metal and ADAM-enhanced muscle that is the Protector. The Big Daddy's oversized rivet gun and thrown explosives make short work of the offending Splicers, the Little Sister cheering for her 'father' in the aftermath, but it's not the insane, spliced-up denizens of Rapture or even the hulking metal brute and discolored child that catch his attention now.

"Ah, there he is." Jack Ryan steps out into the dimly lit wharf, creeping forward carefully with weapon raised and eyes searching. A man nearly as engineered as the Big Daddy's, in a way, and the one Elizabeth had pinned her hopes on when she went off to her death. "There's another who'll have to suffer through Cohen's insanity. I suppose he has the worst of it, though I doubt Elizabeth or Booker would care to hear it."

Watching carefully as Jack approaches the Big Daddy, Robert frowns as he thinks on Elizabeth's decision again; this man could very well turn on the Little Sisters, harvest them to fuel his own ambitions. "Elizabeth's sacrifice would be rendered futile… she'd have been better off simply leaving well enough alone if Jack chooses to do so…" At the very least, he hasn't harmed any of the Little Sisters he'd encountered so far. And from what he has seen with his own eyes, Robert's fairly certain it won't come to that.

"… look, I've been there… I know how this feels…" Robert turns back as Booker mumbles in his sleep, the man who'd set Elizabeth free slowly recovering his memories and suffering the journey through Columbia in his mind. Stepping away from the ledge, Robert watches Booker as he continues to relive his other life. "… li-listen, I think you should talk to me…"

Glancing back at the man below, Robert wonders at the similarities between Jack and Booker. "It seems just as the girl had said. 'There's always a lighthouse. There's always a man. There's always a city.'" While completely different men in almost every sense, Booker's journey through Columbia and Jack's through Rapture are far too similar for Robert to simply wave off as a coincidence. "As is their relationships with their respective cities' rulers…"

Gunfire erupts below, the sounds of bullets impacting on metal causing Booker to jerk in his sleep. "I suppose you may have had the worst of it with Cohen." Glancing down at the unconscious DeWitt, Robert shakes his head as he steps farther from the ledge, "Though it wasn't for long, having to witness Cohen's masterpiece and his 'effigy' of Elizabeth…" Robert falls silent, his own disgust at the thought just as clear.

"Elizabeth… listen…" Booker mutters on, even as he starts to stir, heedless of Robert's presence, "You don't. You just learn to live with it…"

Robert stares on, suppressing a grimace as he realizes what Booker's remembering. "There are some things, Mr. DeWitt, which one cannot live with. Or without."

* * *

Sander Cohen opens his eyes after releasing a deep breath. The maestro stands on the highest level of his Garden of the Muses and stares at the toppled plaster that once formed the spitting image of his long lost disciple, Ms. Elizabeth Comstock.

"I should be absolutely furious at that man…" Cohen muses as he takes a seat on the edge of the platform. It had all been going so well. True, Rapture might be drowning in a river of blood in the streets, but Atlas' little 'revolution' left a great quantity of material to work with. So many days he spent collecting the building blocks for his masterpiece. He can't help but wonder now that he looks upon them, if these poor souls knew they were destined or this great work, or if they even care.

"And now it's all for naught!" Slipping his mask form his face, Cohen vanishes in a cloud of red mist only to reappear atop his towering masterpiece, gently placing the rabbit-eared mask on the intact face of his Songbird effigy. Looking down upon his ruined masterpiece, Cohen breathes a sigh before disappearing again, only to reappear once more on the ledge.

Sitting on the ledge, Cohen leans back as he lets his legs dangle over the side, staring up at the ceiling while running thumb and forefinger over his narrow mustache; so much had been put into this work of art, this monument to his genius. An edifice of plaster and bodies that depicts the beauty of life and death, inextricably intertwined.

"Booker DeWitt." Cohen chuckles as he says the name, sitting upright so as to stare at the wireframe and plaster that once crowned his masterpiece, "So that is why I saw something in his eyes as he saw you, my little Songbird."

Elizabeth Comstock, Sander Cohen's fifth and by far most successful. While she had only been his disciple for two months, the voice of Cohen's Songbird surpassed anything his other disciples could even dream of attaining, Elizabeth captivating Rapture with the haunting sorrow and beauty in each and every note. And her sorrow was not a front, or some cheap act; Cohen remembers all too well her tears after each performance, whether public or private.

"For the father she'd lost, hmm?" Recalling the sweet, beautiful tears she'd shed after recording his newest song, and the angry, willful words she'd spouted after. Those tears, shed for her father, he could plainly see were just a drop in the ocean of grief she'd poured into the song. And Ms. Elizabeth shed so many more tears, he made certain of that, until finally he was satisfied that she was ready for the grandest stage he could prepare.

With all the weight his name carries, he'd filled the seats of Fleet Hall with the best and brightest Rapture had to offer. Most of Ryan's inner circle, not to mention the man himself and much of the Central Council, had graced the hallowed walls of Rapture's premiere concert hall, and the thought of that night curls Cohen's lips into a distorted grin.

"Perhaps even the old bear shed a tear that night." Shaking his head as a manic chuckle escapes him, Cohen climbs to his feet, "Shame she ended our relationship shortly after. Only to what? Bring the local detective in search of a little girl?" Cohen starts around the uppermost level of the club, always keeping his gaze on the fallen Elizabeth effigy, "New Year's Eve, and she brings me the first Booker DeWitt…"

He'd felt it the moment they stepped out from the shadows, right here in his club; there was a connection between her and the older man, but it was hostile, hateful. How cold Ms. Comstock seemed, nothing like the young woman who'd broken down in tears in his studio. Even though she smiled as she danced with the white-haired detective, there wasn't the spark he'd seen in his Songbird before. He'd tried to warn DeWitt, that she'd take him places he didn't want to go, but did he listen? "My Songbird has always been peculiar, special… if only I could put my finger on how…" Tapping his temple with one hand as he continues around the room, Cohen shrugs; there's little chance he can pierce the mystery that surrounded her now.

"And then the next DeWitt appeared before me. A younger man." A spark of anger flares up within Cohen, before sputtering out again. True, the man had defiled his work, but Sander Cohen senses something special, as if he'd witnessed something truly unique, earthshaking even; that the man was something more than he appeared to be. Not quite in the same manner as Elizabeth, for he lacked her ethereal, otherworldly quality, but as if he had some great, driving purpose.

"Ms. Comstock disappeared long ago, taken away by a mysterious man, if the Little Sister's… woefully vague story is to be believed." Most Little Sisters are near completely oblivious to what went on around them, but he'd overhead one Little Sister telling a story to her disgusting Big Daddy. "How did it go again…? 'The pretty lady was surrounded by bad men, and a bad man hurt her. Her Big Daddy appeared, and saved the pretty lady from the bad men…'" Something about the tale left Cohen certain the Little Sister was speaking about Elizabeth.

Now, he's seen a man disappear into thin air, much like the 'Big Daddy' in the story. He'd seen some sort of reaction in this Booker when he had laid eyes on the effigy of Elizabeth Comstock, though the younger man had tried to hide it. A connection was there, nothing like between the last Booker and Ms. Comstock; Cohen observed warmth, affection even. Something that might be like the father she'd spoken of.

"I suppose my little Songbird may still be singing somewhere." He thinks back to the painting he'd rendered unto the world, of the older DeWitt and Ms. Comstock dancing in his club. Perhaps that will stand the test of the ages, along with the recording of her sweetly sorrowful voice.

Looking over the remains of his wireframe and plaster 'Elizabeth Comstock', the figure rapidly losing any measure of significance in his mind, and an idea begins to form in the back of his mind as Cohen's thoughts shift to his other disciples. "Disciples… hmm…? Perhaps I've let them have the run of Fort Frolic long enough. Perhaps I shall return to my domain and prepare for my next masterpiece. A work without a central piece, each part different, yet linked…"

* * *

**Author's Note: Alright, so I mentioned last time that I'd intended to start with Cohen's chapter first, but decided to switch Ryan to the front after looking at the material. While Cohen spent far more time with Elizabeth or Booker than any of the characters I'm going to be writing about, aside from his time as her 'mentor' he had little meaningful contact with either of them. As such, Cohen's section was, in my mind, the least of what I've got planned, but I still hope you enjoyed the chapter. As usual, I'll be making small changes as needed.**

**Thanks for reading, and the next chapter will focus on someone affected far more by Elizabeth's time in Rapture.**


	3. The Little Sister

**Alright, so a quick word: this chapter's sort of a double-feature for various reasons, mainly because the original interlude I'd thought up never really panned out. So far, the interlude's have been from the Luteces perspective, but that doesn't really work here. So I used an idea I'd been tinkering with, but was never long enough to be a chapter or one-shot in it's own right, and because I feel it fits well here. More after the chapter, and I hope you enjoy.**

**Oh, and a quick recap on the format: the first segment is before Elizabeth's saved, the second's an interlude, and the third is after the timeline's altered.**

* * *

Suchong's Free Clinic, January 1959

_"… me fait quell… que… chose…"_ Falling silent as the last note of her song fades into the darkness of the forgotten tunnel, Sally stares at the pretty lady, looking serene as the lies there on the floor. She can't recall how she knows this song, doesn't remember who taught it to her or even what the song's name is. All she knows is that she had to sing this small part for the pretty lady, to try and comfort her.

"Pretty lady deserves better…" Whispering to herself, Sally carefully steps around the pretty lady to where the candles burn brightly, six in all. Some of the candles are half-melted and stuck together, so Sally carefully picks up one of the newer candles that had only been lit a few minutes ago.

Her Sisters Masha and Leta stand a few feet away with Mr. Bubbles, watching in silence as she works; they'd told her the pretty lady had helped them save Mr. B, and had gladly gone along with her to find candles and flowers.

Sally places the candle beside the pretty lady, the flickering flame casting her porcelain skin and dark, raven black hair in soft, warm light. The Little Sister sniffles a little as she looks down on the pretty lady, before retrieving the next candle. The light cast by the small flames does little to brighten up the dark tunnel, the weak, shifting blue light from the glass wall overlooking Rapture as pervasive as ever, but Sally doesn't care; aside from the roses, the candles are all she can think of for the lady who'd saved her. They serve to light up the pretty lady's resting place, and this is all Sally can really do.

Holding the last candle with both of her little hands, Sally kneels beside the pretty lady before putting it with the rest. "An angel…" She can't help but stare at the pretty lady's face; she really does look like an angel, and not the kind she feels compelled to gather from. The Little Sister doesn't even care that she can see traces of ADAM in the lady. Hesitantly, Sally touches the hand she'd held as she first sang her song, then caresses the pretty lady's cheek; both are cold beneath her fingers, and Sally takes her hand away as the sniffles return.

"Why…?" The pretty lady had died for her, this much she knows for certain. But Sally can't even begin to imagine why this lady had given up her life; so much doesn't make sense to the Little Sister. Why would this pretty lady do that? Sally wishes with all her heart that she could understand why the lady died to save her, and wishes with every fiber of her being that the pretty lady didn't have to die. She doesn't even know the pretty lady's name, and Sally thinks back to those horrible final moments.

Staring still at the pretty lady's lifeless features, Sally's breathe catches in her throat as she feels a strange ache in her chest, something she doesn't recognize. Then her vision begins to swim, and it takes Sally a short while to realize what this is; tears, welling up in her eyes and spilling forth once she could hold them back no longer, finally rolling down her cheeks as Sally openly sobs. She barely notices the light of Mr. Bubbles' eyes turning towards her, her Big Daddy probably worrying over her tears.

The pretty lady had smiled at her. She'd smiled as she lay against the glass wall with Sally holding her hand. She'd still smiled even though she lay there dying, blood dripping from the head wound where the bad man had hit her, even though she was going to die with no one who loved her at her side. And the pretty lady had smiled until that horrible moment, when the smile disappeared and the light in her eyes vanished, when her hand went limp in Sally's hand and she'd slumped against the glass for the last time.

Sally has to bury her face in her hands as the sobbing only gets worse, her shoulders shaking as the thought of the pretty lady smiling despite having to die in this place haunts the Little Sister. She didn't even have her Big Daddy at her side when the life left her, leaving Sally the only one to witness her last moments. Only she and the bad man had known that the pretty lady had died. The thought hurts Sally even more, and the Little Sister has to gasp between sobs to breathe. Once again, Sally wishes she knew the pretty lady's name, if only so she could call her something other than 'pretty lady'.

"Your Daddy… your Big Daddy was crying…" Struggling to get the words out between sobs, Sally's distorted voice comes out as little more than a breath; when she, her Sisters and Mr. Bubbles returned with more candles, they'd found a man kneeling by the pretty lady. His eyes had been red and swollen, and he'd lain the lady on the floor. She remembers him, though the one in his memory had white hair, not brown; she thinks his name is Booker, the man who had looked after her for a time. But that man had angered Mr. Bubbles and got himself killed; this man only recognized her after a while, and called her name quietly.

The pain and sadness she'd seen on his face, and heard in his voice, only draws more tears from the Little Sister. She doesn't know why she cares, doesn't understand why the pretty lady's Daddy's pain made her sad too; she'd never cared about the angels she'd gathered from, or the bad men who'd tried to catch her. Only Mr. Bubbles and her Sisters mattered to her, Mama Tenenbaum a close second, but now all she feels is a throbbing ache in her tiny heart as she remembers that Booker with the pretty lady.

The pretty lady's Big Daddy left after crossing her hands over her chest and placing the wilted rose Sally had found beneath her cold, delicate fingers, and whispering something to her that Sally couldn't quite make out; something about taking her home. And Sally's certain he's going to do what Mr. Bubbles always does; make the bad men hurt for what they did. He'd still been crying on the inside, Sally's sure of it, and she'd whispered to Mr. Bubbles before the man left, that his Little Sister is gone as she pointed to the pretty lady. That's when Mr. Bubbles' eyes turned green and pretty, her Big Daddy seeming to understand. Mr. Bubbles left the pretty lady's Daddy alone, even when he made fire with his fingers to light the candles.

"The pretty lady smiled, Mr. B." Slowly lowering her hands, Sally caresses her savior's cheek again, her tears drying a little at a time. Mr. Bubbles steps closer, his heavy footsteps sounding louder than usual in this place, and Sally looks up only to find her Sisters kneeling beside her. But even with the tears drying and her with her Sisters and Big Daddy, the ache in Sally's chest doesn't get any better.

"She was… she was happy… why was she smiling, Mr. Bubbles?" No answer comes from the Big Daddy, only his low, droning voice echoing off the walls. Not that Sally really expected an answer.

Turning her gaze back to the pretty lady, Sally lets a sad, bittersweet smile tug at her features; it doesn't matter if she doesn't understand, because she doesn't have to. The pretty lady must have smiled because she knew something. She must have known that everything was going to be alright. And Sally will never forget her, not ever.

Closing her eyes, Sally takes a deep breath and quietly starts humming the song again. "This is all I can do for you right now, pretty lady…" With her eyes closed, the world shrinks down to just her, the pretty lady and her humming. But as Sally warms up to sing the first verse, all she finds around her is nothingness…

* * *

Terrible pain and freezing cold grips him as he sinks, and he tries to struggle, to keep from falling any further away from her. But his powerful, mechanical body is broken, useless as he's slowly being crushed by the hateful water.

He doesn't understand. He doesn't understand how he came to this; one moment, he'd been flying high in the sky and finally about to reunite with the one person in the whole world he cares for, and the next he's submerged in hateful, freezing, crushing water! And worse, his beloved Elizabeth was just beyond his reach, just beyond a wall of glass that he just couldn't seem to break through.

He could only barely hear her through the water and over his screams of pain, Elizabeth's voice low, comforting… and sad. Her voice, her beautiful voice that he'd loved listening to when she sang as a child, and now she asked him with it to just… let go. Though her comforting words and voice calm him, Songbird nevertheless wills his broken body to move, to fight a little more as he sinks to his watery grave, but to no avail.

Though she seems herself, there's something different about his dear Elizabeth; she feels sad, detached… resigned to something that's weighing on her. He could always sense how Elizabeth felt, no matter how far away, and Songbird wishes he could comfort her one last time. But now, with the light taken from him after the lenses of his eyes cracked and burst under the pressure, all the once mighty Songbird can do is to wait for the end as he sinks farther and farther from his dear Elizabeth.

Closing his eyes, such as they are, Songbird tries to ignore the pain and focus on memories of happier times; most are of with Elizabeth when she was younger, before she'd started hating him. The thought brings an altogether different kind of pain; he'd felt her hate for him, for keeping her locked away. All he wanted was to protect her, to keep her safe and happy, but Songbird knows that that is the reason why she hated him; she wanted to be free, but he couldn't let her go. Shaking his beaked head slightly, Songbird tries once more to focus on happier memories; bringing her gifts of books, dresses and the like, watching her decorate her home during whichever holiday struck her fancy…

His eyes snap open as something stirs within him, even though all he can see is darkness; he feels Elizabeth's presence. Not the Elizabeth who's turned away and had tried to comfort him, but another, somewhere in this underwater city. But then Songbird's heart freezes up as he senses something he does not want to believe; that Elizabeth died, a long time ago.

Songbird would weep if he could, but all he can manage is a strangled wail, and he closes his eyes once again, not just waiting for death now but welcoming it; his utter failure at protecting his beloved Elizabeth breaks what's little left of his heart.

This feeling, he's felt it once before, though he can't remember how long ago it's been now. It'd felt like someone had shoved a burning knife in his heart, and Songbird remembers flying as hard as he could through Columbia to where his daughter was. But that damn song played, the tune controlling him and keeping him from finding Elizabeth, and Songbird had railed against the giant faces that decorated where she was being kept. But then Elizabeth had appeared somewhere else in Columbia, in the company of that damned False Shepherd.

Still sinking, farther and farther away from where he'd last seen Elizabeth and still waiting for his body to finally fail completely, Songbird finds the pain of his body nothing compared to the pain in his chest. And as he despairs, the darkness seems to only get darker.

But Songbird opens his unseeing, ruptured eyes again, blinking a few times; his sense of Elizabeth has… changed. She's seemingly vanished, and Songbird can't remember why his heart aches so. The sensation that she was elsewhere is gone, leaving behind only a trace of her presence; she had been here, but she'd left a long time ago.

In a corner of his mind, Songbird knows that Elizabeth, his beloved daughter, is safe and sound somewhere. He doesn't know how he knows this; maybe his mind is playing tricks on him, or maybe there is a little of her left in this strange city, enough for him to feel out what had become of Elizabeth. Whatever the case, Songbird closes his eyes one last time and allows himself to sink peacefully into the depths, taking solace in the thought that at least she's somewhere far away from here. And he hopes with everything that he is that she's happy.

As he feels the life ebbing from his mangled body, Songbird tries to form one last thought, as the man he was before and not the monster he'd been made into.

"Goodbye, Elizabeth. I love you… and I'm sorry…"

* * *

The heavy, clanking sound of Mr. Bubbles' footsteps fills the empty corridor, and the comforting sound of his voice rumbles around Sally. The Little Sister bounces with each step as she rides on her Big Daddy's shoulder; she'd followed the sound of Mr. Bubbles' voice after leaving the pretty lady and her Daddy, finding her Daddy along with two of her Sisters. Masha and Leta, both of whom had instantly recognized her when she'd first told them of the pretty lady.

"What was the pretty lady's name?" Sally turns to look as a tiny, distorted voice asks to her right; Leta's smiling face looks up at her as she walks alongside Mr. Bubbles.

"Elizabeth… that's the name her Daddy called her." She'd been telling Mr. Bubbles and her Sisters about what had happened to her, after the bad men had caught her; her Sisters listen intently, and Sally had just gotten to the part where the pretty lady had been hit by the bad man, and her Daddy had appeared to stop him.

"Her Daddy called her Elizabeth, and she cried and smiled as she hugged him. He was hurt bad, but he still smiled back, and the pretty lady looked so, so happy…" Sally's gaze falls, and she hugs her doll Sarah tightly, the head only loosely attached to the body; she'd wanted to go with Elizabeth and her Daddy. "They helped each other down the dark, scary tunnel, and they stopped at the door going outside of Papa Suchong's place. And then she turned to me, and said this is where I belong… for now."

That wasn't what she said, but Sally understood her meaning. "Her Daddy… no, Booker," Sally corrects herself, "said someone was coming to save me… save me from what?" Shaking her head, the Little Sister turns back to Leta as she thinks on the rest of what Booker had said, "He said he saw her die… what did he mean?"

"Why'd you stop, Sally?" Startled from the confusing memory as another little voice speaks, Sally lowers her gaze to find Masha stopped in front of her and Mr. Bubbles, looking up with her big eyes and painted face, "You never said what Elizabeth's Daddy's name was… how did he get there?"

"Her Daddy's name is Booker." Sally stops as she says the name out loud, the easy answer followed by a harder question; she has no idea how he'd appeared from thin air. "I don't know how he was there…"

"Oh." Masha shrugs, the Little Sister turning and starting down the empty corridor again, Mr. Bubbles resuming his lumbering pace as her tiny feet make quiet slapping sounds on the white and black tile. "He sounds like a good Daddy... but why didn't he unzip the bad man?"

Sally turns her gaze down the corridor and shrugs again; she didn't understand when Booker told Elizabeth not to shoot the bad man, and she still doesn't even after she tried to make sense of what they and the funny red-haired man said after, "I don't know… he said.. 'he'll get what's coming to him… he's not worth dirtying your hands.' What does that mean?"

Now Masha and Leta shrug, both screwing their faces up as they think about it. A smile teases at Sally's lips as she remembers Elizabeth and Booker, hugging after the bad man ran away. She still can't understand how Booker had appeared from nowhere like that, or how there were two of him; she'd watched the other Booker, the older man with snowy white hair and a funny tattoo on his hand that'd looked after her for a while, make Mr. Bubbles angry and got unzipped for it. Elizabeth had hated that Booker, but cried while hugging this one.

"Maybe we can ask Mama Tenenbaum? Papa Suchong got unzipped…"

Leta asks quietly, and Sally wonders if even Mama Tenenbaum knows; Elizabeth and her Daddy were so strange, mysterious. Turning her thoughts back to Elizabeth, the Little Sister wonders why she did what she did; she'd nearly died saving her, and Sally remembers cringing when the bad man Atlas hit her with a wrench real hard. "Why did she do that…?" Sally just can't understand why Elizabeth went so far; only Mr. Bubbles cares about her, not Papa Suchong, not anybody, except maybe her Sisters and Mama Tenenbaum.

"Elizabeth smiled as she hugged me, Mr. B." Looking down at her Big Daddy, Sally smiles as Mr. Bubbles rumbles in response. She'd said this is where she belongs, that she was better off here; Elizabeth's smile and hug were so warm and kind, Sally just can't fathom that she might be anything but truthful. She must know that everything's going to be alright, and Sally can only wonder at how she can be so certain.

"Ah!" Both Masha and Leta gasp and startle Sally, she snapping her head back up and peering down the shadowy hallway of Papa Suchong's clinic; just barely, the Little Sister can make out a darker shadow at the end of the hallway, quiet clacking sounds like heels on tile reach her little ears and are slowly getting louder. "Mr. Bubbles…" Sally only cursorily notices Leta's voice, her Sisters huddling closer to their Big Daddy. And Mr. Bubble's eyes become bright and yellow as he turns towards the figure, lighting up the corridor.

"Three?" The shadow figure becomes a tall woman as she steps into the yellow light, and Sally narrows her eyes as she stares at the new arrival; the tall lady has long dark hair, raven black and shiny like Elizabeth's, and she wears a beige coat long enough to reach down to her ankles. It looks really heavy to the Little Sister, and the big, bare metal trunk she carries one-handed looks even more so.

Something about the way she looks at the Little Sisters and Mr. Bubbles makes her nervous, and the cold look in her green eyes sends a shiver down her spine. But as Sally stares at the woman, she can't help the feeling that she's seen her before. Sometime at the very edge of her memory; she can't remember much from before, aside from old Booker.

And the strange lady's getting closer, not hesitating for a second as she strides towards Sally, her Sisters and Mr. Bubbles. Something that doesn't make Mr. Bubbles happy, the Big Daddy letting loose a rumbling groan in warning. And the longer she looks at the lady, the more Sally starts to get a strange, gut feeling about her.

"Bad lady! Bad!" She's shouting before she knows it, and the moment Sally starts pointing at the strange lady in the coat, Masha and Leta scamper behind their Big Daddy. And Mr. Bubbles reacts quickly; his giant hand grips Sally around her tummy, lifting her up and putting her behind his large armored body before roaring at the intruder.

"You're in my way, monster. Suchong and I had an arrangement." The woman scowls as she comes to a stop a few feet from them, Sally only barely able to make out her face from behind Mr. Bubbles. Carefully, the woman places her trunk on the hard tiled floor and reaches into a pocket, withdrawing a hypo filled with silvery-white liquid. Sally's eyes widen as a grin flashes across the lady's lips, plunging the hypodermic needle into her wrist with but a wince.

Silver light flows through the veins of the woman's arms, and Sally can only watch as the strange lady grits her teeth and the veins in her neck stick out a little, this particular telltale sign of a Plasmid rewriting someone's genetic code unfamiliar to the Little Sister. As always, the changes only last for a moment; when it stops, the woman turns her gaze back to Mr. Bubbles and breathes a sigh as her body visibly relaxes. And then she smiles, picking up the trunk and continuing her approach.

"Unzip her, Mr. B!" Leta shouts as the woman comes within arm's reach, and Mr. Bubbles swings at her with his drill-less arm. But the woman's just not there; a blur of wispy, silver streaks are all that's left where the tall lady was, she moving out of the way nearly in an instant. And Mr. Bubble's more than a little unhappy; his eyes turn angry and red, Mr. B's roar seeming to shake the hallway. But the strange lady doesn't even flinch, dropping the trunk again and kicking it past the enraged Big Daddy and Little Sisters.

The drill-less arm swings at her again, but the lady's gone again, ducking with only a faint afterimage of silver in her wake. Another swing, this time with Mr. Bubbles' clenched left fist. And once more the lady's gone, dodging with lightning fast speed and rolling past, dashing away as Mr. Bubbles slams a heavy metal foot where her head had been. Now that she's past, the woman turns to glance back at the trio of Little Sisters and Mr. Bubbles. "Too slow, monster. Suchong's really outdone himself this time, hasn't he?" She holds up her hand, the silver glow shimmering in her veins again. "Quicksilver, huh…?"

With that, the woman disappears down the corridor, trunk in hand and chuckling to herself. Mr. Bubbles' eyes slowly shift back to yellow, and his deep, booming voice rumbles again as he turns back to Sally, Masha and Leta. "It's okay, Mr. Bubbles." Sally reaches up and pats her Big Daddy on the hand, "I think the bad lady is gone now, Mr. B."

Masha and Leta are already playing some sort of game, already forgetting about the strange lady and Mr. Bubbles being angry. But Sally can't take her eyes from the direction the woman had gone. Where does she think she's going? All that's back that way is Papa Suchong's body, and the dark tunnel. Even as Mr. Bubbles starts plodding down the corridor again, taking her little hand in his giant one, she can't help but stare back that way as she walks side by side with her Big Daddy.

"Sally!" Masha and Leta run up beside her, all smiles, "Want to play, too? Or maybe sing?"

"Sing…" Turning back to her 'family', Sally smiles back as she nods, "I like to sing. I don't remember the name, but…" Taking a breath, Sally thinks of Elizabeth one more time, the song as much for the pretty lady she'll never forget as for her Sisters, _"Quand il me prend dans ses bras…"_

* * *

**Author's Note: And that is Sally's and Songbird's chapter. Personally, I saw a lot of parallels between Elizabeth's and Songbird's end, and it sort of just worked in my mind as I was writing Sally's chapter with Songbird in it. **

**Now, a few words: I know Little Sisters aren't supposed to perceive the world around them much, but Sally's, and to an extent Masha's and Leta's behavior in Burial at Sea looked a lot more aware of their surroundings than we've been led to believe. With the latter, perhaps the conditioning hadn't kicked in yet, but Sally's been a Little Sister for a while. Perhaps her experience with Elizabeth shook her enough that some slipped? What do you think?**

**As for the Plasmid, it's my take on the mentioned 'reflex enhancing' Plasmid Suchong spoke of in the audio log about Telekinesis. And yes, it's the same one used in Change of Heart chapter 5, by the same woman. It shouldn't be hard to guess which one comes first.**

**And that's it for this chapter. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed Sally's story after Booker and Elizabeth's departure. But this won't be the last you see of Sally, either. ****As usual, minor changes may happen here and there, and I welcome any questions, comments, etc. you might have. ****And I leave you with a question; what do you think Songbird was sensing when he thought he'd felt Elizabeth 'change' the first time (in Columbia), and where?**


	4. The Prodigal Son

**Foreword: Well, it's been a while, but welcome back to Those Left Behind. The chapter's a good deal longer than the rest. And sorry again for the delay. Quick recap, the chapter is structured in 3 parts: before, where Elizabeth had paid her debt and sacrificed herself; an interlude; and finally in a world where Elizabeth was saved. **

* * *

New York, March 30, 1960

"Sally? What's wrong? Why don't you tell me about it, maybe you'll feel better…?"

Jack Ryan frowns as his adopted daughter just shakes her little head, the Little Sister's short blonde ponytail wagging back and forth. She just turns her attention back to the sheet of white paper before her with crayons and pencils littered about her. He's not quite sure what she's trying to draw, the picture incomplete and the shadows cast by the late afternoon sun further obscuring it.

"Come on… at least come out of the corner, Sally. You can draw on the table if you like…" But Sally's not interested; the little girl huddled in the corner of the living room and over her drawing on the apartment floor. And Jack can only breathe a tired, worried sigh. "I'll check on you in a little while, Sally…" The little blonde girl has been sullen and gloomy ever since he'd first met her, but lately she's become even more withdrawn, to the point where not only Jack but the rest of her sisters have started worrying about her.

"Okay, Mr. B…"

That draws a wince from Jack, and he reflexively scratches at the scar on his throat as the name dredges up some unpleasant memories; it's been a month since he and the five Little Sisters had escaped from Rapture and came to New York, and the girls still occasionally call him Mr. B or Mr. Bubbles. With the number of the Big Daddies that he'd fought in that city beneath the waves and his condition, Jack just isn't comfortable with being called that.

Not that the girls understand why, and he's not about to insist that they do otherwise. His voice is still deeper than it used to be and the occasional foul odor still emanates from his, something Jack usually tries to compensate for by frequently bathing and masking the scent with whatever he can.

Stepping away from Sally's corner, nestled against the apartment's back wall and the divide between living room and bedrooms, Jack wearily trudges over to the couch and collapses face first on top of the old, worn leather cushions; raising five girls isn't an easy job in the slightest, much less for a single parent without a penny to his name and even if the girls in question didn't have their young minds tampered with.

"Daddy! Daddy!"

"What is it, Masha?" Turning his head so his right cheek's resting on the cushion, Jack manages to smile as Masha and her ever present companion Leta run up to him; the two of them have been together for much of their time as Little Sisters, and they had spent a lot of time with Sally as well. The two girls look so much alike they could truly be sisters, but that's probably the genetic conditioning at work there; Dr. Tenenbaum had surmised that they'll likely regain at least some of their own traits over time, so long as her treatments are still effective.

"Can we watch the TV, Daddy?"

"Sure, Leta. Let me just… hrm… get up…" Groaning quietly as he pushes himself into a seated position, Jack smiles as the brown haired girls climb up onto the couch on either side of him, Masha running to the television to turn it on first. "Did both of you wash up for dinner?"

"Yes, Daddy." Both Masha and Leta answer in unison, drawing a smile across Jack's face.

None of the girls remember much of anything from before they were taken and turned into Little Sisters, but Tenenbaum had turned up shortly after they'd arrived in New York City, the doctor checking up on her 'little ones' and tending to their unique medical needs; all five of the girls now remember their name, though Masha and Leta seemed to already know theirs. And Sally said as much. the blonde, quiet little girl saying she remembers bits and pieces before falling silent again and bearing a forlorn look on her little face. Something had gotten her down then, and Jack's sure it has something to do with how she's been lately.

As some sitcom appears on the screen and both Masha and Leta stare at the screen in rapt attention, Jack glances around the apartment that's come to be his and the Little Sisters' home; this apartment in the Lower East Side takes up the entire third story of the building, the stairwell that comes up through the center of the structure leaving the place shaped like a blocky U. Off to Jack's left is the front door, a small kitchen with only a refrigerator, stove and a counter, and a small bathroom. Behind him stands the door to the other half of the apartment, the three smallish bedrooms, laundry room and full sized bathroom beyond. There's even a patio, the door to which lies past the laundry and main bathroom. Still not quite enough beds, but still, Jack's glad they brought his family here.

'They' are a rather strange pair, a man and a woman with light red hair, peculiar matching outfits and an even more peculiar manner of speech. They'd been waiting for Jack and the five Little Sisters when their ship pulled into port.

There was no mistaking it; these two knew far more than they let on. The moment he'd started down the gangplank with the girls close behind, the redheads started through the crowd, and had greeted him by name the moment they were face to face; his real name, no less. He'd slipped a hand behind his back to grip the pistol he kept there, but the odd couple had simply shaken their heads and said they meant him no harm.

Robert and Rosalind. Thinking to himself, Jack leans back into the couch; they'd claimed to be there to assist him at an anonymous individual's request, and that they've begun the process of establishing his identity as the son of Andrew Ryan. Apparently, the tycoon turned tyrant had left some accounts on the surface when he'd departed for Rapture, small ones that may have simply been beneath his notice and that would fall to Jack once his identity was proven. How, the odd redheads would not say.

The pair then led Jack and the Little Sisters to a car that took them to this apartment. "'The arrangements have been prepared for your stay,' 'I don't suppose you can afford a place to stay with what little you brought with you.'" Remembering Robert and then Rosalind's quips, Jack sighs; there's plenty about this not to like, but at least they aren't out on the streets. And he hasn't seen the redheads since their initial encounter, though mail has been coming to the apartment with his name on it; the letters are mostly from government organizations and are about his identity and inheritance, the latest stating a paternity test had come up positive. That'd surprised Jack; he hasn't given anyone a DNA sample, and he can only guess at how the redheads had gotten hold of a sample of both his and Andrew Ryan's.

A quiet yawn and the patter of feet on wood sounds from the bedrooms, Jack glancing back over the couch in time to see the door open, another of the former Little Sisters standing in the now open doorway and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "Caroline? I thought you were taking a nap?"

"I was…" yawning quietly, Caroline smoothes back her raven black hair before stepping away from the doorway, "but Rose is jumping on the bed again, Mr. Bubbles…"

"Oh." Another sigh escapes him even as he grimaces, Jack climbing to his feet and shaking his head; the little redhead Rose has developed a rather rambunctious streak, always running around and getting into mischief. None of it was malicious, and she gets along with the rest of her sisters just fine, but she can be a handful, "Rose! You know what I said about jumping on the bed; get off right now!"

Jack steps past the sleepy Caroline and is halfway to the last of the three bedrooms when a knock sounds from the other room, Masha, Leta and Caroline's voices turning excited at the noise. And it seems even Rose knows what it means; the third bedroom door flies open and the little redhead runs out, trying to dash past him and join her sisters.

"Whoa, whoa!" Stopping the little girl with a hand on her shoulder, Jack kneels so they're eye to eye and gives Rose a stern look, "You remember what we talked about last time you jumped on the bed, little lady?"

"Yes…" The little redhead's excited smile disappears and the mirth in her green eyes along with it, "No dessert for three days if I jump on the bed again…"

"That's right. Now, if you behave yourself, I'll make it only two. Do you promise to be good, Rose?"

"Yes, Dad." Rose gives him a small, timid smile; for some reason, Rose calls him 'Dad' unlike her sisters, though Jack doesn't mind. It's better than Mr. Bubbles, that's for damn sure.

"Alright," another soft knock comes from the other room, and Jack slowly puts Rose down, "let's go see who it is, okay?"

"You already told us who it is…" Rose takes Jack's hand as they step back into the living room, the rest of her sisters already waiting at the front door; all except Sally, of course.

One of the sisters must have overhead him on the phone, and Jack grimaces; maybe that's why Rose was so excited and acting up today. He'd found that it's best to surprise the little girls when a certain someone comes to visit. Marching over to the door and carefully stepping past the girls, Jack grins as he answers the quiet knocking, "Thanks for coming so quickly."

"No trouble at all." Brigid Tenenbaum steps into the apartment, smiling as the former Little Sisters all crowd around her, "I couldn't stay away if one of my little ones is suffering."

"Mama Tenenbaum!" Masha cries out as she hugs the woman, the other girls echoing the brunette a second later and doing the same. "We missed you!"

"And I missed all of you, too." Still smiling, Tenenbaum kneels to hug each and every one of the girls in turn, talking to each with her thick German accent just as heavy as the day Jack first met her. A smile of his own tugs at Jack's features as he looks on.

"How are the other girls, doctor?" Though they are most certainly friends, Jack never quite figured out how to refer to Tenenbaum; Brigid feels too informal, doctor too formal, and Tenenbaum just sounds distant.

"They are all fine. The funds I managed to siphon from my former employers has let us live comfortably up here, though there's little time to continue my research. But enough about me; where is the little one?"

"In the back."

The girls part to let Tenenbaum through, Jack leading the older woman to Sally's corner; the blonde only barely acknowledges them, her blue eyes darting up to look their way before returning to focus on the drawing. It's not until Jack and Tenenbaum kneel beside her that he sees tears in Sally's eyes and small wet marks on the paper.

"Sally… Jack tells me you are not well. Not eating, not sleeping. What is wrong, little one?" Tenenbaum smiles even though Sally just shakes her head again, the doctor glancing down at the paper, "She's pretty… who is she?" Jack blinks at the mention of a 'she'; last he looked, the drawing hadn't come far enough to be recognizable, but now he makes out the definite shape of a woman. And aside from where tears had warped the paper, the drawing's a good one.

"I… I don't know, Mama Tenenbaum." Her tiny voice is followed by a small sob; whoever this woman is, she meant an awful lot to Sally, and that alone is perplexing enough. "I mean… her name. I only know her as the pretty lady…"

"Pretty lady…?" Another pair of small voices sound, Jack glancing back to find Masha and Leta staring at the picture and nodding ever so slightly. Rose and Caroline are close behind them, but Jack doesn't have time to ponder.

"May I see, little one?" Touching a corner of the sheet, Tenenbaum places her other hand on Sally's cheek and smiles warmly, "Just for a moment?"

At first, Sally hesitates as she stares back at Jack and Tenenbaum, her little mouth opening to say something but failing to do so. When she finally takes her hands from the paper and puts her crayon down, Sally nods hesitantly , "Okay…"

"Thank you, Sally, we'll give it right… back…?" Jack smiles as Tenenbaum thanks Sally and flips the sheet around, but his grin fades and her voice trails off when they lay eyes on the picture; it's of a woman alright, but not in the way he'd expected. He thought maybe Sally was drawing her mother, but not something like this. Even Tenenbaum looks a little taken aback.

The picture is a mostly black and white depiction of a woman lying slumped against an unseen wall, the red of blood on her brown and white top standing out against skin and dark hair, her eyes open but looking… odd. Her right arm lies on the ground with palm up while her left rests on her stomach. And the woman… the 'pretty lady', is most obviously passed away. There's a half drawn outline of a flower in her open hand, as well as a trio of unfinished candles nearby, and Jack can't help but wonder why this woman means so much to Sally and why her death saddens the little girl so; death never bothered any Little Sister he knew of, not until they were cured.

"Sally… why?"

"The pretty lady… the pretty lady saved me from the bad man…" Curling up and hugging her knees to her chest, tears begin to well up in Sally's eyes again and stream down her cheeks, "And then she… she died because of it."

"Little one…" Placing the picture back where it came from, Tenenbaum crosses her hands on her lap, "What happened?"

"A… a bad man caught me. She tried to save me, but the bad man beat her. Said he wanted… wanted something called a…" Despite the tears, Sally's brow furrows and she screws her face up as she speaks, as if she's trying hard to remember, "An 'ace in the hole'."

"Wait…" That name rings some bells, Jack glancing over to Tenenbaum only to see her nodding, "Sally… what was the ace in the hole, exactly?"

"Uh… a piece of paper, she said it was… would you kindly?" As the last word slips out, Sally buries her face in her arms as fresh tears spring forth, the little girl sobbing.

Glancing slowly over at Tenenbaum, Jack grits his teeth, "She worked for Atlas?"

"No, my friend." Tenenbaum shakes her head, "I've heard this tale before, but I did not know it was Sally's story. As it goes… she tried to save Sally, did save Sally, and died for it. She did not work for him, but was one of his victims…"

"The bad man hit her with a wrench…" Leta's voice draws both Jack and Tenenbaum's gaze.

"The pretty lady died…" Now Masha, the brown-haired girl looking down at her feet.

"I heard she smiled at the end…" Caroline adds slowly.

"I heard some of our sisters brought her flowers…" Finally, Rose speaks up. All of the girls sound somber, and the redhead is no exception.

"We did." Masha and Leta answer in unison, Sally managing to do the same between sobs, though the latter just looks even more miserable now. And Jack doesn't know how to feel; this woman gave Atlas the key to pulling his strings and probably more, but she also, somehow, managed to save Sally from him.

"Who… who is she?"

All five of the former Little Sisters just shrug or shake their heads, and Jack slowly rises to step over to the window, deep in thought. Murmuring comes from the others as the other girls huddle around Sally and look at the picture, and a quiet pair of footsteps slowly approach. "Jack… I may know who this woman is."

"Huh?" Jack glances over when Tenenbaum steps up beside him, scratching his head as he does, "Then just who was this woman?"

"When I went into hiding, a young woman came under the dubious tutelage of Cohen, and earned a name for herself. I… cannot recall the singer's name, but she must have been something more than she appeared to accomplish what she did. And, my friend… I do not think it difficult to see, but if she never gave Atlas the trigger phrase, you may have never been set on your journey."

Guess she's got a point there. Glancing back at the Little Sisters, Masha, Leta, Rose and Caroline sitting around Sally, Jack can't help but heave a sigh; he may never know her name, and he may have mixed feelings about the woman, but Jack owes the mysterious singer a debt for what she did for Sally. Muttering to himself, Jack steps back to his girls as Tenenbaum looks on and gives them all a big hug, "Thanks… thanks for everything, miss." Holding his adopted family tight, Jack only barely notices his mind going fuzzy and the world around him fading to white.

* * *

"Do you see now?"

Closing the Tear with a hint of a fleeting, wistful smile tugging at her lips, Elizabeth turns back to the Lutece twins as the voices from another world and another possible future are replaced by the gentle sound of the ocean lapping against the sandstone lighthouse.

"Indeed." The drawl in Robert Lutece's voice draws a grin from Elizabeth, the peculiar scientist staring back at her unflinchingly; though he's as composed as always, Elizabeth can tell Robert is not happy. "And you mean for us to assist them as well. For what purpose?"

"So they won't have to struggle, at least not at first…"

"So you'll save many of those children, but you will still lose your own life in the process. And the girl you wish to save most will carry that burden with her for what may very well be the rest of her life." Rosalind speaks up, her sharp voice in counterpoint to the dissatisfied, slow tone her brother uses, "The exchange may seem favorable, but it is still you who will lose the most."

"And there are many who would mourn your passing. Surely there's reason enough for you not to do this." The drawl disappears as Robert continues his sister's argument, and Elizabeth crosses her arms as her patience with the twins begins to wear thin.

"Such as? I can think of two, maybe…"

"Now we've upset her. Brother, perhaps the time for debate is over." Rosalind turns back to Robert even as her brother makes to argue. And Elizabeth doesn't give him the chance.

"Thank you, Rosalind. Robert, I will do this, with or without your help. I… I have to repay this debt." Elizabeth turns her gaze to Robert as she says the last, staring at the male Lutece with all the intensity that she can muster.

"… very well." Robert's expression never changes, but as he acquiesces, he seems to visibly diminish to Elizabeth's eyes; as if in defeat. "We shall assist you in any way we are able."

"Good... thank you." With that, Elizabeth turns away from the twins to look out over the Sea of Doors. The stormy weather and dark, menacing clouds still fills the sky, but Elizabeth can only think on what she's about to lose and those she'll leave behind. The doors, the Luteces, her omniscience, Sally… the chance to see her father again, and even the Booker and Anna she'd met in that other Columbia. The thought of them and her father brings a tear to her eye, and Elizabeth can only whisper to the ocean, "I wish I could see all of you, one last time… one last time before I disappear."

* * *

Jack blinks, looking around as if he'd momentarily forgotten where he is and what he was doing. It only lasts for a moment, but it's enough to leave the young man disconcerted; the confusion clears as he looks down to see his adopted daughter Sally sitting in the corner and on the wooden floor of the apartment, the blonde girl drawing something with pencils and crayons.

"Sally? What's wrong? Why don't you tell me about it, maybe you'll feel better…?"

But Sally only shakes her head vigorously, the blonde little girl's ponytail shaking back and forth. Jack can only frown; Sally had become sullen and withdrawn lately, and now the former Little Sister's brow is furrowed in concentration as she draws, her tongue sticking out a little. Whatever she's trying to put to paper, it must be something of great importance to Sally. She hasn't said more than a few words to him or any of her sisters in the past week, and Jack's grown plenty worried about her. "Come on… at least come out of the corner, you can draw on the table if you like…"

"No!" Sally looks up at him with her big, blue eyes and surprising Jack; it's been a good while since he'd heard her shout like that, he hardly would've expected Sally to break her relative silence like this. "It's not… done yet." Her voice drops down to a solemn whisper, and Sally turns her gaze back to the drawing she's huddled over.

Jack can only breathe a tired, worried sigh, "I'll check up on you in a little while, Sally…"

"Okay, Mr. Bubbles."

That draws a grimace from Jack, and he reflexively scratches at the scar on his throat as the name dredges up some unpleasant memories; it's been a month since he and the five Little Sisters had escaped from Rapture and came to New York, and the girls still occasionally call him Mr. B or Mr. Bubbles. With the number of the Big Daddies that he'd fought in that city beneath the waves and his condition, Jack just isn't comfortable with being called that.

Not that the girls understand why, and he's not about to try and explain it to them. Thanks to Tenenbaum, his voice isn't as deep as it once was and the foul, stinking odor of a Big Daddy only occasionally emanates from him, something Jack usually tries to compensate for by frequently bathing and masking the scent with whatever he can.

Stepping away from Sally's corner, nestled against the apartment's back wall and the divide between living room and bedrooms, Jack wearily trudges over to the couch and collapses face first on top of the old, worn leather cushions; raising five girls isn't an easy job in the slightest, much less for a single parent and even if the girls in question didn't have their young minds tampered with.

"Daddy! Daddy!"

"What is it, Masha?" Turning his head so his right cheek's resting on the cushion, Jack manages to smile as Masha and her ever present companion Leta run up to him; the two of them have been together for much of their time as Little Sisters, and they had spent a lot of time with Sally as well. The two girls look so much alike they could truly be sisters, but that's probably the genetic conditioning at work there; Dr. Tenenbaum had surmised that they'll likely regain at least some of their own traits over time, so long as her treatments are still effective.

"Can we watch the TV, Daddy?"

"Sure, Leta. Let me just… hrm… get up…" Groaning quietly as he pushes himself into a seated position, Jack smiles as the brown haired girls climb up onto the couch on either side of him, Masha running to the television to turn it on first. "Did both of you wash up for dinner?"

"Yes, Daddy." Both Masha and Leta answer in unison, drawing a smile across Jack's face.

None of the girls remember much of anything from before they were taken and turned into Little Sisters, but Tenenbaum had turned up shortly after they'd arrived in New York City, the doctor checking up on her 'little ones' and tending to their unique medical needs; all five of the girls now remember their name, though Masha and Leta seemed to already know theirs. And Sally said as much, the blonde, quiet little girl saying she remembers bits and pieces before falling silent again and bearing a forlorn look on her little face. Something had gotten her down then, and Jack's sure it has something to do with how she's been lately.

As some sitcom appears on the screen and both Masha and Leta stare at the television in rapt attention, Jack glances around the apartment that's come to be his and the Little Sisters' home; this apartment in the Lower East Side takes up the entire third story of the building, the stairwell that comes up through the center of the structure leaving the place shaped like a blocky U.

Off to Jack's left is the front door, a small kitchen with only a refrigerator, stove and a counter, and a small bathroom. Behind him stands the door to the other half of the apartment, the three smallish bedrooms, laundry room and full sized bathroom beyond. There's even a patio, the door to which lies past the laundry and main bathroom. Still not quite enough beds, but still, Jack's glad they brought his family here.

'They' are a rather strange pair, a man and a woman with light red hair, peculiar matching outfits and an even more peculiar manner of speech. They'd been waiting for Jack and the five Little Sisters when their ship pulled into port.

There was no mistaking it; these two knew far more than they let on. The moment he'd started down the gangplank with the girls close behind, the redheads started through the crowd, and had greeted him by name the moment they were face to face; his real name, no less. He'd slipped a hand behind his back to grip the pistol he kept there, but the redheads had simply shaken their heads and said they meant him no harm before introducing themselves.

Robert and Rosalind Lutece. Thinking to himself, Jack leans back into the couch; they'd claimed to be there to assist him at an anonymous individual's request, and that they've begun the process of establishing his identity as the son of Andrew Ryan. Apparently, the tycoon turned tyrant had left some accounts on the surface when he'd departed for Rapture, small accounts that may have simply been beneath his notice and that would fall to Jack once his identity was proven. How, the odd twins would not say.

The twins then led Jack and the Little Sisters to a car that took them to this apartment. "'The arrangements have been prepared for your stay,' 'I don't suppose you can afford a place to stay with what little you brought with you.'" Remembering Robert and then Rosalind's quips, Jack sighs; there's plenty about this not to like, but at least they aren't out on the streets. The redheaded twins had not stopped there, however; they appeared several times over the past months, and the former Little Sisters have become accustomed to their presence.

The Luteces had ensured they'd be comfortable, and even Jack's mail has been coming to the apartment with his name on it; the letters are mostly from government organizations and are about his identity and inheritance, the latest stating a paternity test had come up positive. That'd surprised Jack; he hasn't given anyone a DNA sample, and he can only guess at how the redheads had gotten hold of both his and Andrew Ryan's.

A quiet yawn and the patter of feet on wood sounds from the bedrooms, Jack glancing back over the couch in time to see the door swing inward, another of the former Little Sisters standing in the now open doorway and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "Caroline? I thought you were taking a nap?"

"I was…" yawning quietly, Caroline smoothes back her raven black hair before stepping away from the doorway, "but Rose is jumping on the bed again, Mr. Bubbles…"

"Oh." Another sigh escapes him even as he grimaces, Jack climbing to his feet and shaking his head; the little redhead Rose has developed a rather rambunctious streak, always running around and getting into mischief. None of it was malicious, and she gets along with the rest of her sisters just fine, but she can be a handful, "Rose! You know what I said about jumping on the bed; get off right now!"

Jack steps past the sleepy Caroline and is halfway to the last of the three bedrooms when a knock sounds from the other room, Masha, Leta and Caroline's voices turning excited at the noise. And it seems even Rose knows what it means; the third bedroom door flies open and the little redhead runs out, trying to dash past him and join her sisters.

"Whoa, whoa!" Stepping in front of the little redhead to stop her, Jack frowns when Rose slips around him completely, he quickly reaching to catch her by the shoulder. A quiet 'aww' escapes the girl, and Jack turns her around so they're looking each other in the eye, "You remember what we talked about last time you jumped on the bed, little lady?"

"Yes…" The little redhead's excited smile disappears and the mirth in her green eyes along with it, "No dessert for three days if I jump on the bed again…"

"That's right. Now, if you behave yourself, I'll make it only two. Do you promise to be good, Rose?"

"Yes, Dad." Rose gives him a small, timid smile; for some reason, Rose calls him 'Dad' unlike her sisters, though Jack doesn't mind. It's better than Mr. Bubbles, that's for damn sure.

"Alright," another soft knock comes from the other room, and Jack leads Rose out into the living room, "let's go see who it is, okay?"

"You already told us who it is…" Rose takes Jack's hand as they step back into the living room, the rest of her sisters already waiting at the front door; all except Sally, of course.

One of the sisters must have overhead him on the phone, and Jack grimaces; maybe that's why Rose was so excited and acting up today. He'd found that it's best to surprise the little girls when a certain someone comes to visit. Marching over to the door and carefully stepping past the girls, Jack grins as he answers the quiet knocking, "Thanks for coming so quickly."

"No trouble at all." Brigid Tenenbaum steps into the apartment, smiling as the former Little Sisters all crowd around her, "I couldn't stay away if one of my little ones is suffering."

"Mama Tenenbaum!" Masha cries out as she hugs the woman, the other girls echoing the brunette a second later and doing the same. "We missed you!"

"And I missed all of you, too." Still smiling, Tenenbaum kneels to hug each and every one of the girls in turn, talking to each with her thick German accent just as heavy as the day Jack first met her. A smile of his own tugs at Jack's features as he looks on.

"How are the other girls, doctor?" Though they are most certainly friends, Jack never quite figured out how to refer to Tenenbaum; Brigid feels too informal, doctor too formal, and Tenenbaum just sounds distant.

"They are all fine. We are managing quite well up here, and are living comfortably; I even have time to continue my research. But enough about me; where is the little one?"

"In the back."

The girls part to let Tenenbaum through, Jack leading the older woman to Sally's corner; the blonde looks up at their approach and gives Tenenbaum a quick smile, her blue eyes darting back down to focus on the drawing.

"Sally… Jack tells me you are not well. Not talking, not playing. What is wrong, little one?" Tenenbaum smiles even though Sally just shakes her head again, the doctor glancing down at the paper, "She's pretty… who is she?" Jack blinks at the mention of a 'she'; last he looked, the drawing hadn't come far enough to be recognizable, but now he makes out the definite shape of a woman. Sally's always been a good drawer for her age.

"I'm almost done, Mama Tenenbaum." Her tiny voice is quiet, but there's an unmistakable hint of affection in Sally's voice; whoever this woman is, she meant an awful lot to Sally, and that alone is perplexing enough. "I only knew her as the pretty lady at first, but…"

"Pretty lady…?" Another pair of small voices sound, Jack glancing back to find Masha and Leta staring at the picture and nodding ever so slightly. Rose and Caroline are close behind them, but Jack doesn't have time to ponder.

"May I see, little one?" Touching a corner of the sheet, Tenenbaum places her other hand on Sally's cheek and smiles warmly, "Just for a moment?"

At first, Sally hesitates as she stares back at Jack and Tenenbaum, her little mouth opening to say something but failing to do so. "But I'm not done…" Still, Sally puts her crayon down and takes her hands from the drawing.

"Thank you, Sally, we'll give it right… back…?" Jack smiles as Tenenbaum thanks Sally and flips the sheet around, but his grin fades and her voice trails off when they lay eyes on the picture; it's of a woman alright, but not in the way he'd expected. He thought maybe Sally was drawing her mother, but not something like this. Even Tenenbaum looks a little taken aback.

The picture is a mostly black and white depiction of a woman, a man and a little girl, probably Sally herself. The woman has the man's arm slung over her shoulder, both looking to be supporting each other as they go, and Sally holds the woman's left hand as she looks up at the pair. The woman's long, black hair and fair skin cause her red lips and blue eyes to stand out, and it's obvious Sally took special care when drawing the 'pretty lady'.

"She saved me from the bad man." Sally nods as she explains, the Little Sister looking up at Jack and Tenenbaum, "He tried to kill her… hit her in the head with a wrench and yelled at her."

"Little one…" Placing the picture back where it came from, Tenenbaum crosses her hands on her lap, "Please, tell us what happened."

"A… a bad man caught me. She tried to save me, but the bad man beat her. Said he wanted something called a…" Sally's brow furrows and she screws her face up as she speaks, as if she's trying hard to remember, "An 'ace in the hole'."

"Wait…" That name rings some bells, Jack glancing over to Tenenbaum only to see her nodding, "Sally… what was the ace in the hole, exactly?"

"Uh… a piece of paper, she said it was… would you kindly?" As the last word slips out, Sally curls up and pulls her knees to her chest, resting her chin on her arms.

Glancing slowly over at Tenenbaum, Jack grits his teeth as a thought crosses his mind; she worked for Atlas?

"No, my friend." Tenenbaum shakes her head, "I've heard this tale before, but I did not know it was Sally's story. As it goes… she tried to save Sally, did save Sally, and Atlas meant to murder her. She did not work for him, but was one of his victims."

"But it didn't happen that way, right?"

"I heard her Daddy came to save her." Leta's voice draws both Jack and Tenenbaum's gaze.

"And he unzipped all of the bad men, except for the baddest man." Now Masha, the brown-haired girl looking over to Leta for a moment.

"I heard they were hurt, but they made the bad man run away." Caroline adds quickly, the other sisters nodding.

"Then they went home, after helping Sally find Mr. Bubbles." Finally, Rose speaks up. All of the girls are smiling, and the redhead is no exception.

"They did." Sally answers with a smile of her own, the blonde girl nodding slowly. And Jack doesn't know how to feel; this woman gave Atlas the key to pulling his strings and probably more, but she also, somehow, managed to save Sally from him. "Her name is Elizabeth, Daddy, Mama Tenenbaum. She hugged me, and said I was better off here. They said… someone was coming to save me."

"I have heard of that name."

"Huh?" Jack glances over at Tenenbaum, the woman nodding again thoughtfully, "You have?"

"Yes. And my little ones have told me this story, though not with so many details. When I went into hiding, a young woman came under the dubious tutelage of Cohen and earned a name for herself in Rapture. As I understand it, she was truly talented, but she must have been something more than she appeared to accomplish what she did. And, my friend… I do not think it difficult to see, but if she never gave Atlas the trigger phrase, you may have never been set on your journey."

Guess she's got a point there. Standing slowly, Jack steps over to the window looking out over New York and takes a deep breath. Wherever this woman and her father went, and despite her giving Atlas the means to control him, Jack can't help but feel he owes this Elizabeth his gratitude; for saving Sally, and for his sake as well. "Sally, once you're finished with your picture, let's put it on the wall..."

Jack's cut off as a flash of light and a strange, otherworldly sound fills the apartment, the man who'd originally been nothing more than a puppet turning quickly to face whatever was happening. But what Jack finds as he looks back towards the kitchen only leaves him dumbstruck. He barely notices Tenenbaum staring at it in wonder, and the look on the Little Sisters' faces.

* * *

**Author's Note: It took a while, but I finally got to Jack. It was interesting to write Jack and Tenenbaum, they're very different from Booker and Elizabeth, and that made it a bit of a challenge. This is also my take on what became of Jack, the Little Sisters and Tenenbaum. Now, it doesn't take much of an imagination to figure that it was a Tear at the end of the chapter, but the real question is, to where?**

**As usual, I'll be looking for errors and the like later, and I welcome any feedback. For the most part, this is the end of this side story, but as with all my other stories, a new idea could pop up at any time. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter.**


	5. The Lamb

**For new readers, this story is based off of and is tied into several other pieces of mine. If you're not sure where to start, I'd suggest finding Bioshock Infinite: Unbroken, as well as its prequel Unbroken: Song of Sorrow and the continuation Unbroken: I'm Home. Thanks for checking it out.**

**Foreword: Well, it's been a while since I've had something new for Those Left Behind, and I've been hinting at this slightly for the past couple weeks. Quick recap on the structure of this story's chapter. T****he chapter is structured in 3 parts: before, where Elizabeth had paid her debt and sacrificed herself; an interlude; and finally after, where Elizabeth had been rescued during the events of Unbroken, and the effects the change has had. **

* * *

A greenish glow fills her vision and surrounds her, a hazy, ephemeral light, warm and inviting. And while there are only shadows beyond the haze, a bolt of green-white lightning suddenly forks across her vision and pierces the darkness, dazzling her weak, weary eyes. She doesn't know what this is, doesn't know where she is and only vaguely can remember who she is, but she can feel the light pulling on her.

The darkness and the warm, ephemeral light quickly give way to a far more intense, far more mundane illumination than that which she'd first perceived, the change as sudden as the appearance of the hazy green glow. Her mind begins to clear despite the blinding light in her eyes, but she also feels weak, and her legs give out beneath her before she can even attempt to sort things out.

But she doesn't hit the ground; a pair of strong arms catches her, hooking under hers and roughly pulling her back up to her feet. Weakly, she tries to look up to give thanks or complaint to the men holding her, but she finds her movements sluggish, her vision blurry and her hearing muted; all she can make out are shapes and colors, nothing particularly standing out. A couple voices echo around her, but nothing clear.

And suddenly they're off, the strong arms dragging her effortlessly and unceremoniously away, her head lolling forward and hanging there while her shoes drag along the floor. Though her mind and vision are slowly clearing, the young woman still can't make heads or tails of her situation; all she can do is idly notice the metal grating that is the floor, the pervasive red glow, and her long black curls that hang like a veil around her face.

A tiny voice in the back of her mind tells her that she has to resist, that she needs to escape. But she doesn't even have the strength to stand, much less to slip away from the strong arms that keep her from an abrupt meeting with the metal floor. Hell, she doubts she even has the strength to lift her head.

Her eyes close on their own, and the next thing she knows, she's being dumped on a hard table in some dark, sterile room. She feels hands on her wrists, ankles and face, straps securing her where she lays, and the table inclines until she almost feels she'd slide off if not for the restraints. Another blindingly bright light shines in her face, the young woman squinting against it.

"Good evening, Ms. Comstock." A booming, commanding voice seems to come from the light, as if it belonged to God himself. But she knows that voice; it would be difficult for anyone who lives in Rapture not to. "We meet again, in a manner of speaking."

"Andrew Ryan…" Elizabeth's voice comes out a rasping croak, and she pauses to take a breath and try to swallow, "I don't… I don't recall ever having the pleasure."

The brilliant light blinks out and a wall-sized monitor flickers to life, Elizabeth blinking in an attempt to let her eyes adjust to the sudden darkness. At first, there's only static, but soon the screen clears to show a still image of the man himself. The brim of Andrew Ryan's hat is pulled low, hiding his eyes and only depicting his mouth, pencil-thin mustache and nose.

"You may not have, yes, but I remember meeting you in a similar fashion all too well. Ryan's voice fills the room again, but Elizabeth's mind still isn't altogether whole yet, and she almost misses what he says next, "You stood before me, Ms. Comstock, defiant, headstrong and foolishly ignoring your one chance at salvation. You brought this chaos down upon my city by unleashing Atlas and his brigands. You sided with that Parasite all for some trifling mater, knowing full well that he would betray you. And you threw my generous offer back in my face, only to walk to your death for your _Sally_." Ryan puts extra emphasis on the Little Sister's name, almost spitting it.

"I… I did what?" Staring back at the screen as the thought crosses her mind, Elizabeth stays silent as Ryan rants. She doesn't remember any of this, not one bit, only the name of the Little Sister ringing any bells. And she remembers Sally alright, the memory of Comstock trying to pull her out of the heating vent making her blood boil.

Taking stock, Elizabeth feels like most of her memories have returned, the black-haired young woman able to recall the events that led her and 'Booker' to the Toys Department, her time in Rapture, and what brought her here in the first place. She even remembers Columbia, for better or worse.

"Imagine my surprise when my men found your corpse in the Toys Department, the place I know for a fact you died far removed from that deserted prison."

"I don't know what you're talking about…" Elizabeth grimaces as she speaks; she remembers Comstock being impaled by the Big Daddy's drill, but that's not what bothers her. That was all part of the plan, really, but she hadn't expected the beast to turn on her so quickly. Remembering her own death doesn't help her confusion any.

"Of course not. We revived you using a genetic sample from your first corpse, Ms. Comstock. It would seem the Vita-Chambers are an even greater success than we originally thought; you have been dead for several months now.

"Revived… months?" This whole business is making Elizabeth's head ache, and she wishes she could bring a hand up to cradle her forehead, "That must be what that light was…"

But Elizabeth pushes such thoughts aside, shaking her head as best she's able; the strap across her forehead that secures her to the table makes even that small movement nearly impossible. She's in enough of a situation right now, and Elizabeth hasn't the time to worry about how some device brought her back. And this situation she finds herself in is all the fault of someone else, pretending to be her.

"Who was it, the other 'me' who did this?" Peering around the dark room as she thinks, Elizabeth can't make out anything aside from the glowing screen and the image of Andrew Ryan on it, though she can hear quiet breathing coming from the shadows. "Was it just someone pretending to be me? But why? Another me… no, that can't be it… some quantum duplicate, or…?"

Elizabeth stops as another possibility comes to mind; it may actually have been her. She has no idea what would happen to her should she die; she could just end up like the Luteces, appearing elsewhere in the Sea of Doors, possibly with one of the infinite doors now closed to her. And that possibility scares Elizabeth, "And if she returned… the other me would… what?" Elizabeth doesn't know, and that frightens her even more. And that's when she finally notices; she can't see the doors, not a single one, and now she's terrified half to death. The doors are closed to her, all of them.

"What do you want with me?" A low, quiet chuckle comes from Andrew Ryan, sending a chill down her spine.

"I want your secrets. You refused to come work for me and set Atlas loose, and even as exceptional as you are, I cannot overlook this. So I must be satisfied with extracting what I seek."

"Extract?"

Memories surface of their own volition, Elizabeth recalling her captivity in Comstock House in a flash, the dazed young woman remembering the tortures the doctors there inflicted on her. She remembers with such clarity that Elizabeth can almost feel that spinal tap buried in her back again, and the miniature Siphon tearing away at her. And when she snaps out of it, Elizabeth's not at all surprised to find her eyes stinging and a tear rolling down her cheek.

"Just tell me what you want." Trying to keep from panicking, Elizabeth slips back into the role she'd practiced for when she faced Comstock, trying to sound aloof, mysterious and unshakeable while she starts fighting with her restraints.

"I have many questions, Ms. Comstock. Such as how did you come to arrive in my city without my notice? How did your return to life without a Vita-Chamber? But I have no guarantee that you will be forthcoming with the truth. No, I shall leave it to my doctors to verify their findings."

She spots movement from the corner of her eye, and Elizabeth strains to look even as she has a vision of Comstock's doctors, fear slicing through what's left of the haze clouding her thoughts. "Why… why are you doing this to me? I'm not the one who…"

Pain explodes in Elizabeth's skull, her vision beginning to shimmer as she screws her eyes shut against the agony. Her mind fills with images, Elizabeth seeing even with her eyes closed a darkened tunnel, Rapture visible through a glass wall at the end and a group of men waiting for her there. Next she sees the Little Sister Sally being held by one of the men, a hand clamped over the girl's mouth. And finally, she sees Atlas, a wrench in hand and swinging towards her pain-wracked skull.

Something warm and wet trickles from Elizabeth's nose, dripping onto her lower lip. Some of it must have found its way into her mouth, for Elizabeth tastes the coppery tang of blood. "Atlas… he killed me… Atlas killed me, with a wrench…"

"Yes, you gave that Parasite what he wanted, whatever that was, and how did he reward you? By taking more, taking what you offered him and repaying you with betrayal and death. I warned you that Atlas does not honor agr-"

"Sally's safe…"

Elizabeth's voice is little more than a breath as she whispers. She still isn't sure why she came back after ending Comstock, but Elizabeth does know it was for Sally, and that the Little Sister is safe. Fresh tears well up in Elizabeth's eyes, streaming down her face as she thinks on the last of the memories; the last thing she saw before passing was Sally, kneeling at her side and holding her hand to her gray, discolored cheek. Despite how little care she'd given the girl and her confusion, knowing that the Little Sister will be alright somehow gives Elizabeth a measure of peace.

"Goodbye, Ms. Comstock." Ryan's voice booms once again, now sounding a touch dismissive, "Your tears will do nothing to save you. I leave you in my doctors' capable hands."

The monitor blinks off, and the blinding light flares to life at the same time, dazzling the bound, one-time Songbird. And the doctors begin to speak of her and the 'procedures' as if she weren't in the room at all. "We should begin with the least invasive, drugs and electro-shock. If she doesn't respond to those methods of persuasion, we can move to more…" a severe looking older woman steps into Elizabeth's field of vision, looking at her coldly, "'primitive' measures."

Elizabeth shudders again as the handful of doctors mill around her, helpless to do anything but plead with them. But she has no intention of giving them the satisfaction, at least so soon, and Elizabeth whispers a solemn vow to herself. "No matter what they do, no matter what they promise… I won't give them a thing…"

Despite her brave words, Elizabeth still shudders as a syringe comes into view, she screwing her eyes shut as the cold, sharp needle presses against her skin.

* * *

April 22, 1922, 7:10 AM

"I'm getting too old for this…"

Groaning as he steps into his office, Booker DeWitt quietly eases the door shut before carefully stealing over to his desk. The reason for his caution is simple; even though his daughter is asleep, the Founder of Columbia has no desire to wake her, not after his lapse of judgment led to her trekking across worlds with Elizabeth's Booker to find him. Besides, they'd been up late last night, and she could use the sleep.

Elizabeth and her father had stepped through a Tear last night to visit with the Little Sisters and their adoptive father, and Booker and Anna had stayed up to make sure the pair was okay. At least until Elizabeth decided to take a bath, both Booker and Anna quickly reaching for the power switch on the control panel.

But his reason for rising so early has nothing to do with the family he and Anna are so invested in, and Booker takes a seat as he activates the Lutece Array, running his fingers through his graying brown hair and glancing out the window at the cloudy, pre-dawn sky. He's still worried about what he saw when he'd stepped into the very same world that Booker and Elizabeth had yesterday.

"Something must have happened in Rapture… and those insane twins have been conspicuously absent…" A quiet sigh escapes booker as he looks back towards the screens, the four monitors showing only static, "Booker must have seen it, too…"

He doesn't want to burden Anna with this, not when it may be nothing and he has naught to show for it, so Booker's been investigating quietly these past two months. But it's slow going; searching Rapture at different points in time takes quite a while.

"Bad enough I have to see this sunken city going to… huh?"

Booker almost misses it as he moves the device's focus from Olympus Heights and Elizabeth's apartment to Hephaestus, the Founder of Columbia doing a double take, unable to believe his eyes. "That son of a bitch…"

* * *

A greenish glow fills her vision and surrounds her, a hazy, ephemeral light, warm and inviting. And while there are only shadows beyond the haze, a bolt of green-white lightning suddenly forks across her vision and pierces the darkness, dazzling her weak, weary eyes. She doesn't know what this is, doesn't know where she is and only vaguely can remember who she is, but she can feel the light pulling on her.

The darkness and the warm, ephemeral light quickly give way to a far more intense, far more mundane illumination than that which she'd first perceived, the change as sudden as the appearance of the hazy green glow. Her mind begins to clear despite the blinding light in her eyes, but she also feels weak, and her legs give out beneath her before she can even attempt to sort things out.

But she doesn't hit the ground; a pair of strong arms catches her, hooking under hers and roughly pulling her back up to her feet while another hauls her up by the collar of her shirt. Weakly, she tries to look up to complain to the men over their rough treatment, but she finds her movements sluggish, her vision blurry and her hearing muted; all she can make out are shapes and colors, nothing particularly standing out. A couple of voices echo around her, but nothing clear.

And suddenly they're off, the strong arms dragging her effortlessly and unceremoniously away, her head lolling and hanging there while her shoes drag along the floor. While her mind and vision are slowly clearing, the young woman still can't make heads or tails of her situation, but she does recognize the cold, hard metal of a gun held against her back; all she can do is idly notice the metal grating that is the floor, the pervasive red glow, and her long black curls that hang like a veil around her face.

A tiny voice in the back of her mind tells her that she has to resist, that she needs to escape. But she doesn't even have the strength to stand, much less to slip away from the strong arms that keep her from an abrupt meeting with the metal floor or escape from the man with the gun. Hell, she doubts she even has the strength to lift her head.

Her eyes close on their own, and the next thing she knows, she's being dumped on a hard table in some dark, sterile room. She feels hands on her wrists, ankles and face, straps securing her where she lays, and the table inclines until she almost feels she'd slide off if not for the restraints. Another blindingly bright light shines in her face, the young woman squinting against it.

"Good evening, Ms. Comstock." A booming, commanding voice seems to come from the light, as if it belonged to God himself. But she knows that voice; it would be difficult for anyone who lives in Rapture not to. "We meet again. Or perhaps I should call you Ms. DeWitt?"

"Andrew Ryan…" Elizabeth's voice comes out a rasping croak, but she's too surprised to pay it any mind, "I don't… I don't understand your meaning… and I don't believe we've met…"

The brilliant light blinks out and a wall-sized monitor flickers to life, Elizabeth blinking in an attempt to let her eyes adjust to the sudden darkness. At first, there's only static, but soon the screen clears to show a still image of the man himself. The brim of Andrew Ryan's hat is pulled low, hiding his eyes and only depicting his mouth, pencil-thin mustache and nose.

"You may not have, yes, but I remember meeting you in a similar fashion all too well. Ryan's voice fills the room again, but Elizabeth's mind still isn't altogether whole yet, and she almost misses what he says next, "You stood before me, Ms. Comstock, defiant, headstrong and foolishly ignoring your one chance at salvation. You brought this chaos down upon my city by unleashing Atlas and his brigands. You sided with that Parasite all for some trifling mater, knowing full well that he would betray you. And you threw my generous offer back in my face, only to walk to your doom for your _Sally_." Ryan puts extra emphasis on the Little Sister's name, almost spitting it.

"I… I did what?" Staring back at the screen as the thought crosses her mind, Elizabeth stays silent as Ryan rants. She doesn't remember any of this, not one bit, only the name of the Little Sister ringing any bells. And she remembers Sally alright, the memory of Comstock trying to pull her out of the heating vent making her blood boil.

"Imagine my surprise when I saw you emerge from that hole in the wall with your companion leaning on your shoulder, both of you beaten to within an inch of your life but still very much alive. Although, this DeWitt was far younger than the elderly detective whose body we found near yours, Ms. DeWitt. He and that peculiar red-haired fellow arrived just in time to save you from a grisly fate at Atlas' hands, appearing from nowhere like a pair of ghosts. That's no mere coincidence, Ms. DeWitt. In fact, I'd say it sounds like a miracle, doesn't it?"

"Booker…" Elizabeth can only breathe the name; she had hoped to find him again, find 'her' Booker among the countless others once her business in Rapture was concluded. But from the sound of it, Booker came to save her from this… 'Atlas', and Elizabeth can't help the conflicting mix of joy and despair from swelling up within her. "He… he came for me!" Despite herself, Elizabeth smiles at the thought, "Booker came for me… he remembers, and…"

But her heart sinks a moment later, "No… not me… who… who am I?" Elizabeth grimaces, and she doesn't care who is listening, "Who am I? If he saved me… how am I here?!"

"We revived you using a genetic sample we took from the corpse you left behind, Ms. DeWitt. It would appear the Vita-Chambers are a greater success than I originally thought; this 'you' has been dead for months now. Though, that still doesn't explain how you were still very much alive even after having left a body in that sunken prison."

"Revived… months?" This whole business is making Elizabeth's head ache, and she wishes she could bring a hand up to cradle her forehead, "That must be what that light was…"

But Elizabeth has other problems to worry about, shaking her head as best she's able; the strap across her forehead that secures her to the table makes even that small movement nearly impossible. She's in enough of a situation right now, and she hasn't the time to worry about how some device resurrected her. And this situation is all the fault of another her, Elizabeth not liking where this train of thought looks to be heading.

"Was it really me, this other Elizabeth who did all this?" Peering around the dark room, Elizabeth can't make out anything aside from the screen and the image it bears, though she can hear quiet breathing coming from the shadows. "Booker and Lutece came to her rescue, so she must have been the genuine article… and that means… somehow, she must've survived our 'death'. Maybe she appeared in the Sea of Doors… and I was left behind…"

Elizabeth stops as the thought starts turning to a conclusion, and she tries to shake her head again in disbelief. "If she returned to this world, and was at risk of being killed… that Elizabeth lost her powers? And if she's the real Elizabeth… what does that make me?"

And that's when Elizabeth realizes what's wrong, why she's feeling so unfocused; she can't see the doors, either. However the other Elizabeth whatever let her see all the doors, and what's behind the doors, when she returned to Rapture, she doesn't have it anymore, either. Or maybe it was this Vita-Chamber of Ryan's that caused her loss, who knows? Whatever the case, Elizabeth feels as if a part of her has been ripped away.

"What… what do you want with me, huh?" There's a definite touch of desperation in Elizabeth's voice, but she doesn't care, "What _am _I? If the real Elizabeth escaped with Booker, then what does that make me? A copy? Some… genetic doppelganger?"

A low, quiet chuckle comes from Andrew Ryan, sending a chill down her spine, "I do not know what you are, Ms. DeWitt, but what I want is simple; your secrets. You refused to come work for me and set Atlas loose instead, and that is something I cannot overlook. But you are truly exceptional, even more so than I originally though, so much so that I cannot simply extract what I seek and dispose of you as I would any of my other enemies."

"Extract?"

Memories surface of their own volition, Elizabeth recalling her captivity in Comstock House in a flash, the dazed young woman remembering the tortures the doctors there inflicted on her. She remembers with such clarity that Elizabeth can almost feel that spinal tap buried in her back again, and the miniature Siphon tearing away at her. And when she snaps out of it, Elizabeth's not at all surprised to find her eyes stinging and a tear rolling down her cheek.

"Just tell me what you want." Trying to keep from panicking, Elizabeth tries to slip back into the role she'd practiced for when she faced Comstock, trying to sound aloof, mysterious and unshakeable while she starts fighting with her restraints. And she's failing miserably.

"I have many questions, Ms. DeWitt. Such as how did you come to arrive in my city without my notice? How did you return to life without a Vita-Chamber? But I have no guarantee that you will be forthcoming with the truth. No, I shall leave it to my doctors to verify their findings, and if you are cooperative, I'll even guarantee your life. But if you choose to be less than compliant… there's always the Vita-Chamber, and your companion."

She spots movement from the corner of her eye, and Elizabeth strains to look even as she has a vision of Comstock's doctors, fear slicing through what's left of the haze clouding her thoughts. "Why… why are you doing this to me? I'm not the one who… I'm not her…" Tears well up in her eyes as she speaks, both for fear of what's about to be done to her and sorrow for not being the one Booker came for. All she can do is wonder; wonder how her other self is living, why that Elizabeth came back to this… "Did he say 'companion'?"

"You… you didn't…" Gritting her teeth as she stares back at Andrew Ryan's image, Elizabeth's fingers slowly curl into fists, "You didn't revive _him_, did you?"

"Certainly." Ryan's answer fills Elizabeth with rage, anger tying her stomach in knots as the tycoon continues, "I do not expect much from this DeWitt, but he is certain to have a connection with the other. He's being kept in a nearby cell until my doctors are ready for him."

"No!" Straining against her bonds as she shouts, Elizabeth feels fresh tears well up in her eyes, these tears of frustration and dread rather than sorrow, "Dammit, why?! He's… he's a monster! Everything I did…"

Slumping against the table, suddenly worn out from the brief burst of anger, Elizabeth doesn't bother trying to blink away the tears as they stream down her face. And for some reason, Elizabeth's thoughts turn to Sally, the Little Sister she used and consequently abandoned as despair further tightens the knots in her stomach. "Maybe… maybe that's why she came back…"

"Goodbye, Ms. DeWitt." Ryan's voice booms once again, now sounding a touch dismissive, "Your tears will do nothing to save you. I will leave you in my doctors' capable hands."

The monitor blinks off, and the blinding light flares to life at the same time, dazzling the bound, one-time Songbird. And the doctors begin to speak of her and the 'procedures' as if she weren't in the room at all. "We should begin with the least invasive, drugs and electro-shock. If she doesn't respond to those methods of persuasion, we can move to more…" a severe looking older woman steps into Elizabeth's field of vision, looking at her coldly, "'primitive' measures."

Elizabeth shudders again as the handful of doctors mill around her, helpless to do anything but plead with them. But she has no intention of giving them the satisfaction, at least so soon, and Elizabeth whispers a near silent, irrational plea to someone else entirely removed from here, "Booker… help me…"

A syringe comes into view, and Elizabeth can only shudder and screw her eyes shut as the razor sharp point comes closer and closer to her. She wishes she could fight back, do to the doctors what she'd done to Comstock's men, but without the doors she's just an ordinary, helpless girl.

The sound of a door slamming against a wall sounds, and the calm tone of the doctors' voices suddenly becomes anything but. And the first scream rips through the air as something akin to an explosion sounds nearby, the bastard with the needle suddenly falling onto Elizabeth before sliding to the floor; Elizabeth can make out a dozen small, bloody holes in the man's back. A shotgun blast.

"Elizabeth!"

Her heart soars, Elizabeth struggling to find him with her eyes as she calls back, "Booker!"

His shotgun sounds over and over, each of the panicking doctors falling in turn. From what Elizabeth can tell, the shots are coming from behind her, and all she can do is wait to be freed. "Booker, thank goodness… you came for me…"

"Elizabeth…" There's something strange about the tone of his voice, like he's choked up or unsure of what to say.

"C'mon, cut me loose… Booker?"

"Elizabeth…" The strap holding her head in place suddenly comes loose, the sound of a knife slicing through the thick fabric barely audible. He moves out of sight whenever she turns to look, "Listen… I'm not…"

The straps on her wrists fall off, and Elizabeth hurriedly pulls off the bindings around her ankles, pushing off the table and turning to face him eagerly. But Elizabeth quickly realizes her error, the overjoyed smile vanishing from her face in a heartbeat; the man before her looks every bit like Booker DeWitt, but his gray hair and blue, guilt filled eyes give him away. "Comstock…"

Zachary Comstock stands before her and nods slowly, blood on his hands and staining his shirt.

* * *

**Author's Note: Well, I wonder how many of you were expecting something like this? I know, I've said I'm not a fan of using the Vita-Chamber to revive Elizabeth, but the longer I thought about it, the less I could see Ryan passing up an opportunity to get answers; he's not one to tolerate mysteries, as far as I'm concerned. And even so, I'd say it's pretty obvious that Elizabeth wasn't going to make it in the 'before' part. I know, it's kind of dark, but hey, it's Bioshock and Rapture. I've got to be honest, while I really wanted to write this, part of me wasn't sure whether to make it officially part of Unbroken. But given the hints from Alone in the Infinite and Change of Heart, I'm sure you can see which way I ended up going.**

**Of course, now we've got another Elizabeth stuck in Rapture at the height of the Civil War, along with a revived Comstock. What do you think is going to happen with these two? Will they go their separate ways? Stay together for mutual survival (or one just refuses to leave the other be?) Or will an outside force change the playing field?**

**We'll see when and how we come back to these two. As usual, I'll be making an additional check sometime later for any issues, and I welcome any feedback in whatever form it may come in. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter.**


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